.%, 


^>. 


,>^.  w. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


k 


A 


••■.'     ^    /...  "w^ 


/- 


f/. 


rf> 


& 

^ 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


Ilk  IIM 

IIIIIM 


14. 

£   Itt    112.0 


JA 


U    111.6 


Hiotographic 

Sdences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  NY.  14S80 

(716)  S73-4S03 


fV 


iV 


■^ 


\ 


c\ 


iV 


% 


^ 


#  « 

V 


«"• 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


1980 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notaa/Notas  tachniquaa  at  bibliographiquas 


Tl 
to 


Tha  Inatituta  haa  attamptad  to  obtain  tha  baat 
original  copy  availabia  for  filming.  Faaturaa  of  thia 
copy  which  may  ba  bibliographicaily  uniqua, 
which  may  altar  any  of  tha  imagaa  in  tha 
reproduction,  or  which  may  aignificantly  change 
tha  uaual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


□    Coloured  covera/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 

□   Covera  damaged/ 
Couverture  endommagia 

□   Covera  reatored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  reataurAe  et/ou  pelliculAe 

□   Cover  title  miaaing/ 
La  titre  de  couverture  manque 

□   Coloured  mapa/ 
Cartes  giographiques  en  couleur 

□    Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

□    Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

□    Bound  with  other  material/ 
ReliA  avac  d'autres  documenta 


D 


□ 


Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  reliure  serr6e  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  cu  de  la 
distortion  la  long  de  la  marge  intirleure 

Blank  leai/es  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  v/ithin  the  text.  Whenever  poaaibia,  theae 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanchaa  ajoutAea 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissant  dana  la  taxte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  Atait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  At  A  filmtas. 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  la  mailleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  AtA  poaaibia  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-Atre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite.  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dana  la  mAthode  normale  de  filmage 
aont  indiqufo  ci-dessous. 


I      I   Coloured  pages/ 


Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  andommagies 

Pages  restored  and/oi 

Pages  restaurAes  et/ou  pelliculies 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxei 
Pages  dAcolories,  tachetAes  ou  piquies 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  d6tach6es 

Shovtrthrough/ 
Transparence 

Quality  of  prir 

Qualiti  in^gale  de  I'impression 

Includes  supplementary  materii 
Comprend  du  material  supplimentaire 


I — I  Pages  damaged/ 

I      I  Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 

jryi  Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 

r~y|  Pages  detached/ 

I      I  Shovtrthrough/ 

I      I  Quality  of  print  varies/ 

I      I  Includes  supplementary  material/ 


Tl 

P< 
o1 
fil 


Oi 
b( 
th 
si( 
ot 
fil 
8i( 
or 


Tl 
sh 
Tl 
w 

M 
dil 
en 
be 
ris 
rei 


D 
13 


Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Mition  disponible 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  ref limed  to 
enaura  the  best  possible  image/ 
Lea  pages  totalament  ou  partiallement 
obacurcias  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  6t4t  filmAes  A  nouveau  de  fapon  A 
obtanir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


a 


Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  supplAmentaires: 


Pagination  as   follows    :    [2],    iv,    [9]    -   142,    [2]   p. 


EZl 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  eat  film*  au  taux  da  rMuction  indiquA  ci-deaaoua. 

IPX 14X 18X  22X 

I    I    I    I    I    I    I    I    I    I    I    !>/" 


26X 


30X 


12X 


16X 


20X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


ils 

lu 

iifier 

ne 

age 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

Ralph  Pickard  Bell  Library 
Mount  Allison  Univ«r>ity 

The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  ihustrsiied  impression. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  -^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


L'exempiaire  film*  fut  reproduit  grAce  k  la 
gAnArositt  de: 

Rjiph  Pickard  Bell  Library 
Mount  Allison  University 

Les  images  suivantes  ont  6t6  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  nettet6  de  l'exempiaire  film6,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 

Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprimte  sont  filmte  en  commenpant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
derniAre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ,1  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  selon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  filmte  en  commenpant  par  la 
premiere  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
III  derniAre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaltra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  chaque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — ^  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  Atre 
filmAs  i  des  taux  de  reduction  diffArents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  Atre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clichA,  il  est  film*  A  partir 
de  I'angle  supArieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  nAcessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mAthode. 


rata 
} 


elure. 


3 


32X 


t 

! 

a 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

T  ii  F 


a 


IN  THE  WOOD 


A      •/■..■.A.Gfic  aoi^w^iDir. 


,ii         jjj''  «  V 


1^ 


^^^tIiu)!    iub0iution   ot    181S". 


00 

•a 
O 


f  AMES     DbMILLU,         ' 


/ 


f     i         >■         T       *     >         ': 


%.. 


o 


•  \ 


E  K  T. 


"■■• 


i  R76 


*  •♦'  *1 


,    ;i'i;^^. 


''"'^$, 


J'W. 


>'       ™'        *■■!■•■      ■  ■  ■  ■■  V    ■         ■  ■■...    •   ■    ■  •    ■ 


Jr**'', 


.V" 


r 


I 


?  : 


.^^■^■i(:-' 


,1 


'%'. 


'^^''.y-i^ 


st'-'>. 


I-.,* 


"'■^'^  p^\ 


■*;| 


.■,/:■  .       ■*■    ■^'    ■•  ■  '^ ■•.I '■■■;:.    'i- 
V     ■■?•/.■     ^  ^  /   ..-'V  ■..■*  ■  ■■■■A-'Kif^.X 

.  ■      "    ■>l;i-  ;f  /    '  ■,■•'■    •   ■;,;. 


/.,'i< 


^  -if' 


?<^ 


/■ 


W'' 


.^ 


*    i      ;Uii  ,■ 


s 


r  I 


/ 


^ 


THE 


-«Si' 


BABES  IN  THE  WOOD: 


Ji.  ITRJ^G-IO  COIuTEIDTr. 


%  SiiBtiS  of  t^t  Italian  Itijolntbn  nf  1848. 


BT 


JAMES     DeMILLE, 

Author  of  "  The   Dodg*   Club,"    "  The   American   Baron,"  etc.,  eU. 


# 


-— t 


V   GO 
tz       I 

(0 
IC 

> 

o 


< 

DC 

CQ 


BOSTON: 


WILLIAM    F.     GILL     &    COMPANY, 

(SUCCESSOBB  TO  THE  OLD  STAHD  OF  BUEPARD  IC  OlU.,) 

151    Wabrinoton    Stbbbt. 


1876. 


'HP^' 


Bntorod  according  to  Act  of  CongrcM,  in  the  year  1874.  by 

WILLIAM   F.  GILL  8c  COMPANY, 

In  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congreaa,  at  Watililngton, 


M* 


Fbsbs  of  Bonmrvu.  Ann  CnDscini.T^ 
Boston. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I.                                                              PAQB. 
Thk  fair  ukkhowii  —  Charih  of  a  lotklt  btramoer— a  smils 9 

CHAPTER  II. 
Thr  lotblt  stranger  makm  hrrsklf  quite  at  home  — All  thk  others  do  oreisanok It 

CHAPTER  III. 
The  woes  of  McOintt  —  He  loses  his  beactt  and  dares  not  show  his  face  to  his  beloved.  .18 

CHAPTER  IV. 
Littlb  Kosbttb  — Alone  in  the  world  — The  police  on  her  track >1 

CHAPTER  V. 
The  inconsolable  one— The  most  faithful  of  spouses  —  Evils  of  marrtino  a  widow... 22 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Littlr  Rosette  among  the  Philistines 2* 

CHAPTER  VII. 
Old  friends— a  rapturous  meetino  —  Associations  and  reminiscences  of  the  past 29 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
Thbbb  stbinos  to  one  bow— A  too  impressible  youth 88 

CHAPTER  IX. 
Jealous  of  himself *® 

CHAPTER  X. 
Too  popular  —  Rosette  is  misunderstood - *0 

CHAPTER  XI. 
Vert  unladylike  —  No  one  treats  her  with  common  politeness 44 

CHAPTER  XII.  ' 

A  VICE  LOVER  —  Kitty's  peculiar  position 46 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
Hard  on  the  little  oirl  —  Too  young  for  such  a  position 48 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
Tub  good  papa  —  His  amiable  ways 48 


/^33999 


J 


II  CONTENTS. 

CHAITEK  XV. 

ThB  MAmiA   REHUKES  THB   PAPA 49 

CIIAPTEB  XVI. 

ThB   lIAMMA'a    LAST    SHOT Jj 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

MoGlNTY    ANNODNCBU  UIS   OWM   DEATH 54 

CHAPTEU  XVIII. 

McGlNTY   PttOIfOUNCKS   HIS   OWM  FDNEHAL  DISCOURSE fift 

CHAVTEK  XIX. 

MoGlRTY  BIDS   AN    ETKRNai.   FAREWELL 60 

CHAPTEn  XX. 

'  HbRB   this  story  enters  llPOjr  a  TRBXEMDOUS  series  of  catastrophes,  which  are  I'NEQUALI.ED 

IM  modern  fiction 53 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

Thb  mvmma   at   ray  —  Bearding  the  lion  —  The    prefect    op    the    municipal    police    is 
monplu88ed (jo 

CHAPTER     XXII. 
AwruL  doings  —  A  brave  fight 63 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

LiTTLB   ROSETTB  ARRESTED   AND  IN  THE  HANDS   OF  THE   POLICE C3 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
Before  the  awful  bar (;6 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
The  CRITICAL  moment 70 

V  CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Thb  papa's  perplexities  —  Hb  concludes  to  abjure  his  principles 72 

CHAPTER    XXVII. 
A  new  excitement  —  Affright 74 

CHAPTER    XXVIII. 
Tub  daughter  of  General  George  Washington 76 

CHAPTER    XXIX. 
Tbk  shadow  of  an  impending  doom 80 

CHAPTER  XXX. 
Tbb  hbad-quartbrs  of  thb  insurgents  —  Tub  men  m  red ...83 


Pbi] 


An:i 


The 


Tus 


The 


Thb 


Tw< 


Thb 


Th« 


Is  I 


Thk 


The 


The 

c/ 


The 


The 


Ano 


.r>4 


.55 


.74 


CONTENTS.  Ill 

CHAPTER   XXXI. 
Priwcks!!  Robettr 84 

CHAPTER  xxxir. 
Anxious  inqdiries — Desolations  and  DBSPAins 86 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

The   MAMMA   AND  THE  Henulisii   Hahbasbaoor 88 

CHAPTER    XXXIV. 

TUE   WANDERINOS   OK  TUB   MAMMA 91 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 
The  mamma  finds  hbst 92 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 
The  mamma  disodises  uebsblf,  and  plumqes  into  the  tiiruno 98 

CHAPTER  XXXVII. 
Two  forlorn  damsels 95 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 
The  very  volatile  Fred 97 

CHAPTISR  XX!XIX. 
The  faithful  Oeassato 99 

CHAPTER  XL. 

Is    it   a   mock   CARICIVAL? 101 

CHAPTER  XLI. 
The  papa  takes  to  a  disocise  —  A  despebatb  venture 108 

CHAPTER  XLII. 
The  papa  as  lord  biou  chancellor 105 

CHAPTER  XLIII. 

The  papa  on  his  way  to  the  judgment  hall  —  He  decides  to  trt  and  sentence  politi- 
cal OFFKNDKRIi 100 

CHAPTER  XLIV, 
The  spider  and  the  fly 107 

CHAPTER  XLV. 
The  reds  —  An  operatic  scene 109 

CHAPTER  XLVI. 
Another  operatic  scene  —  Rosette  led  out  to  bb  shot Ill 


IT 


Thb  wromo  pahtt. 


CONTENTS. 
CHAPTER  XLVII. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 


A   lOLBMN   PROUI8K. 


CHAPTER   XLIX. 


Okassato  and  Krkd. 


CHAPTER  L. 


MoQiKTT  AMU  Cart  in  perpi-kxitt. 


CHAPTER  LI. 


Th«  rotonua  —  Scena ! 


CHAPTER  LII. 

TmB   illustrious   PRIBONRRS — ANOriSH   OF  THE   PAPA 


CHAFFER  LIII. 


8iR  Edobnb  Mbrrivalr. 


CHAPTER  LIV. 


Thb  first  explosion. 


CHAPTER  LV. 


Thb  bbcond  explosion.. 


CHAPTER  LVI. 


Thb  GRAND  explosion  of  all. 


CHAFfER  LVII. 


Final  explosion 


CHAPTER  LVIII. 


Tub  btbawberrt. 


CHAPTER  LIX. 


Shtlock  and  tub  pound  or  flesh 


CHAPTER  LX. 


Tub  wedding   dat. 


CHAFFER  LXI. 
Out  o»  the  wood  —  Well — All  right 


J 


CHAPTER    LXII. 


Rbuarks  bt  thb  papa. 


.114 


.11« 


.119 


.U'l 


.129 


.124 


.127 


.129 


.131 


.183 


.135 


.180 


.187 


.140 


.141 


.143 


.119 


' 


THE    BABES     IN    THE    WOOD. 


..KM 


...12» 


..127 


..181 


..183 


.186 


..141 


.142 


\    \ 


GHAFTBB  I. 

THI    TAXB    CNXNOWM— €BAiUf8    Or   A    LOVSLT 
BTBANOIB— A  SMUA 

"Mountain  paH  and  lonellneM; 
Enter  beauty  In  diatreu." 

Tbb  above  title,  dear  reader,  is  purely  flgura- 
tire.  As  Artemua  Ward  uied  to  say,  it  must  tie 
"touk  saroastlo."  A  little  explanation  may, 
therefore,  be  advisable. 

To  explain,  tben : 

By  the  "  Babes  "  is  meant  the  following  In- 
Dooent  and  inexperienced  parties: 

1.  Little  Eoaette,        6.  McOlnty, 

2.  Kitty,  6.  Gary, 

8.  'Arriet,  7.  The  Papa, 

4.  Fred,  8.  The  Mamma. 

And  by  the  "  Wood  "  is  meant  Italy  in  1848. 
With  these  preliminaries  I  proceed  to  hoist 
tbe  curtain: 

It  was  about  twenty-five  years  ago,  in  tbe 
dear  old  days— tbe  days  whenPlancus  was  con- 
sul—the  days  of  our  hot  youth. 

Those  were  tbe  days  for  an  Italian  tour;— 
days  when  we  rolled  along  in  our  own  car- 
riages, without  any  bother  about  rnilwaya; 
—days  of  douones,  and  douanicrea;  of  pass- 
ports; of  gen-da/rmes;  of  spies;  of  abirrl;  of 
every  currency  under  Heaven ;  and  of  a  sepa- 
rate State  every  half  a  dozen  miles.  We  bowed 
to  tbe  Austrian  Viceroy  at  Milan ;  stared  at  tbe 
King  of  Sardinia;  toolc  off  our  bats  to  the 
Gnind  Duke  of  Tuscany;  attended  the  leveeof 
tbe  Duke  of  Parma;  bought  the  likeness  of  the 
Duke  of  Modena;  Idssed  tbe  toe  of  Hit  Holi- 
ness the  Pope;  and  gave  three  oheers  for  the 
King  of  Naples.  All  these  were  potentates  in 
Oil  these  several  States  in  tbe  old  days. 


But  now  all  these  have  gone.  Italy  if  on* 
nation,  with  one  customs  duty,  and  one  our- 
reuoy,  and  one  ruler.  Nothiuff  but  railroads 
everywhere!  The  Romance  of  the  country  ha* 
gone,  and  nothing  is  left  for  us  old  fogies  but 
to  mumble  with  our  toothless  jaws  over— tii* 
good  old  days. 

About  twenty-flve  years  ago,  then,  in  thes* 
good  old  days,  a  solitary  horseman  migbt  have 
l>een  seen  slowly  wending  liis  way  over  th* 
road  that  leads  from  Spoleto  to  Terni.  This 
road  crosses  the  Apennines  at  a  point  whiob  la 
over  four  thousand  feet  aliove  the  level  of  the 
sea,  a  ciroumstanoe  which  makes  it  to  those 
who  may  be  on  theaaoent  rather  a  heavy  thing 
in  roads.  Suoli,  at  least,  seemed  to  be  the 
opinion  of  our  friend  the  horseman— Fred 
Fotherby;  who,  after  aooompanying  a  carriage 
some  distance,  had  concluded  to  ride  ahead 
and  wait  for  bis  friends  at  the  summit.  With 
this  intention  Fred  went  on  until  he  reaohed 
tbe  highest  point,  and  tben  stood  and  looked 
around. 

Tbe  scene  here  was  most  mngnifloent.  All 
around  him  arose  tbe  summits  of  giant  moun- 
tains, peak  beyond  peak,  and  crest  lieyond 
crest,  like  waves  of  tlie  sea.  all  covered  with 
glistening  snow  and  ice;  while  over  them  here 
and  there  rolled  vast  masses  of  mist  and  clouds. 
Lower  down  there  appeared  wooded  slopes, 
long  declivities,  and  perclpitous  olilb,  altemi^ 
ting  with  white  villages  and  crumbling  towers; 
while  far  awny  migbt  be  discerned  a  narrow, 
green  valley,  through  which  wound  a  slendofi 
silver  stream. 

The  young  fellow,  before  whom  ail  this  lay 
spread,  seemed  to  have  somethin;^  of  that  poeti- 
cal enthusiasm  whiob  the  youthful  trav«Aer  Is 


10 


THE  BABES  IN  THE  WOOD. 


apt  to  feel  in  tbia  romnntio  land;  and  aa  he 
looked  around  he  niurniured : 

"  ItaUa:  oh,  ItaUa,  thou  who  hut 
The  fatal  gift  of  beauty  I" 

The  remainder  of  the  stanza  is  yery  well 
known,  and,  therefore,  it  is  sufficient  for  me 
to  do  like  the  minister  on  Sunday,  and  give  out 
only  the  first  two  lines.  Another  reason  for 
giving  01)  this  much  is,  that  Fred  Fotberby 
did  not  qu>  ■  any  more  himself,  for  he  stopped 
short  as  something  caught  his  eye. 

It  was  only  a  little  distance  down  the  road, 
and  he  had  not  seen  it  before,  on  account  of 
the  back-ground  of  trees,  which  made  it  less 
oonspiouoiia.  The  sight,  however,  wat^a  start- 
llag  one.  It  was  a  wrecked  carriage,  with  a 
woman  standing  near  it,  and  a  man  buay  with 
the  horses.  Fred  could  see  Hint  tlie  carriage 
had  been  going  in  the  same  direction  with  him- 
self—that is,  toward  Terni,  and  that  it  must 
have  broken  down  here  after  crossing  the 
summit. 

This  sight  at  once,  as  a  matter  of  couri^e, 
drove  away  all  other  thoughts,  and  Fred  hur- 
ried to  ihe  spot  as  fast  as  he  could. 

As  he  reached  it  be  found  himself  in  the 
presence  of  a  scene  which  excited  the  strong- 
est emotions  within  his  sympathetic  and  highly 
impressible  bosom.  The  carriage  was  broken, 
the  horses  well  nigh  unmanageable,  the  man, 
who  was  evidently  the  coaohman,  singularly 
inefficient;  but  the  woman  was  the  centre  of 
the  scene. 

She  was  a  lady  of  very  remarkable  beauty. 
Blender  and  elegant  figure ;  complexion  some- 
what dark;  eyes  dark,  large  and  lustroua;  hair 
rippling  in  luxuriant  waaaes  down  her  brow, 
and  falling  behind  her  head.  She  was  dressed 
in  a  traveling  suit,  with  the  most  perfect  tuste, 
and  every  part  of  her  attire  indicated  the  latest 
Pari^iian fashion.  Her  little  hands,  beautifully 
gloved,  were  clasped  together;  and  as  Fred 
drew  up,  she  raised  her  face,  and  turned  toward 
liim  those  large,  dark,  melting,  liquid,  lustrous 
orbs  of  hers,  with  such  a  look  of  unfathomable 
dbtreas,  and  such  a  glance  of  pathetic  appeal, 
that  he  could  not  stand  it,  but  flung  himaelf  at 
once  from  the  horse,  and  would  have  flung 
bimielf  at  the  lady'a  feet  also,  if  he  had  not 
•uddenly  thought  better  of  it,  and  oonoluded 
DOt  to  do  it  just  then. 


Such  a  proceeding,  he  saw,  would  be  quite 
unwarrantable  with  a  lady  to  whom  he  hud 
never  been  introduced.  So  he  took  oft  his  hatt 
and  discloaed  a  crop  of  fine,  curly,  brown  bolr, 
and  abroad,  frank  brow ;  while  hia  honest,  boy- 
ish eyes  fixed  themselves  eagerly  upon  the 
beautiful  stranger;  and  he  endeavored  most 
desperately  to  think  of  something  to  say,  but, 
unfortunately,  without  being  able  to  think  of 
a  single  thing.  The  lady,  however,  did  not 
wait.  She  herself  made  the  overtures,  and  be- 
gan in  a  low  and  gentle  voice,  which  gradually 
grew  fuller  and  more  sonorous. 

What  she  said  was  something  like  thi!> : 

0  funeslessimn  contratempo  I  0  male  diztone ! 
0  dio  mio  qualcheaguajntaggine  I  0  ignorantac- 
clochiha  rovinato  la  mil  oauural 

TbeBe  were  followed  by  many  other  words  of 
the  grand  rimbombamento  order,  but,  unfoi^ 
tunately,  they  were  all  Italian,  and  of  that 
language  our  young  friend,  Fred,  understood 
not  one  word.  He  listened,  however,  to  the 
lady's  remarks  v.  ith  the  most  profound  atten- 
tion ;  for  the  latly's  voice  was  sweet  and  muoi- 
oal  beyond  description,  and  as  the  sounds 
trickled  forth  from  her  ruby  lips  it  seemed  to 
Fffd  as  though  he  was  listening  to  beautiful 
music. 

And  this,  be  it  remarked,  was  not  owing 
BO  much  to  the  language  aa  to  tlie  voice  of  the 
speaker;  for  I  have  known  young  men  who 
have  experienced  the  same  emotions  while  lis- 
tening totheooromonest  English  words  as  they 
fell  from  the  lips  of  Beauty ;  and  I  dare  say 
that  under  the  same  circumstances  the  same 
has  been  felt  by  other  yuung  men  with  regard 
to  High  Dutch,  Low  Dutch,  S'vedisb,  Bohemi- 
an, Russian,  Tuikish,  Feeje*  an,  Chinook,  and 
Pigeon  English. 

As  she  spoke  she  pointed  from  time  to  time 
with  one  of  her  little  gloved  hands  to  the  car- 
riage, while  with  the  other  she  made  gestures 
which  were  so  expressive,  that  of  themselves 
they  convey  a  meaning  to  Fred.  For  the 
Italians  have  constructed  n  natural  language 
out  of  sign  and  gesture ;  and  the  intelligent 
reader  knows,  of  courtie,  that  about  this  very 
time  the  good  Bomba,  King  of  Naples,  made  a. 
speech  to  his  rebellious  Lnzzaroni  by  means  of 
gestures  only,  and  the  speech  was  not  merely 
intelligible,  but  was  an  immense  suooess.    Od 


•H 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


11 


i 


i 


this  oconsion  the  lady's  gestures  were  quite  aa 
clear  and  eloquent  as  those  of  the  royal  Bomba ; 
the  little  gloved  baud  was  a  tongue  wliich  spoke 
of  her  misfortune;  while,  to  add  to  the  effect,  the 
couohman  cauie  ranging  himself  up  behind  liis 
mistress,  chiming  in,  so  to  spealc,  with  eloquent 
gestures  of  his  own,  with  innumerul>le  shrugs 
and  contortions,  winks,  and  grimaces,  and  ex- 
pressions of  face  thut  went  through  the  whole 
gamutof  woe.  And,  so  tlie  end  of  it  was,  thnt 
after  all,  Fred  succeeded  in  understanding 
pretty  well  all  tlint  was  snid ;  und  as  lie  feasted 
bis  eyes  on  this  figure  of  elegant  despair,  of 
beauty  in  distress,  be  could  uut  lielp  recalling 
the  words  which  he  bad  just  been  murmuring, 
wbiuh  words  now  rung  in  his  ears  with  a  jing- 
ling Anacreontic  measure— 

"  Italia;  O.  lUUa; 
On  tby  Bweet  brow  is  sorrow  I  " 

At  length  tlie  lady  seemed  to  change  from 
theniirrative  to  the  interrogative  style,  and  to 
nsk  him  questions.  This,  of  course,  brought 
matters  to  a  crisis,  and  Fred,  in  tliis  dilemma, 
could  do  nothing  else  than  resort  to  the  lan- 
guiige  of  nature.  He  pressed  bis  band  upon 
his  heart  and  solemnly  shook  his  head.  At  this 
the  lady  seemed  struck  by  a  new  discovery. 
Sbe  looked  at  bim  more  curiously,  and  at 
lengtli  said : 

"Parlez  vous  Franoais,  Monsieur f" 

••  Well,  no,"  said  Fred ;  "I  don't  parly  Fran- 
oy,  nor  Ituleanny,  either,  I'm  sorry  to  say." 

"Tedescho?"  asked  the  lady  again. 

"  Me  no  savvy,"  said  Fred ;  "  fact  is,  me  don't 
speak  notin'  'cept  Inglis." 

"  Ingelees,  ah?"  repeated  the  lady.  She  gave 
a  smile  which  pierced  Fied's  heart.  '*Ob, 
well,  I  spik  Ingelees  leetle  peet  mysef." 

"  Hurrah  1"  cried  Fred ;  "  you  speak  English, 
do  you?  That's  splendid,  you  liuow.  And 
now  won't  you  let  a  fellow  do  something  for 
you?" 

Fred  spoke  this  last  sentence  in  a  coaxing, 
wheedling  tone,  and  with  a  smile  which  was 
graciously  responded  to  by  the  lady,  who  gave 
bim  another,  full  of  sunshine. 

"Oh,  Signer,"  said  sbe,  "you  baf  come  to 
■afa  me  from  destruzione.  I  tiaf  come  dees 
morna  from  Spoleto.  I  go  to  Roma.  I  baf  ar- 
rife  here  an  de  wheel  baf  broka.  Sono  despe- 
rata.    Dio  miol    Sono  perduta.     Dees  C!oo- 


cbiere  haf  so  much  of  de  sguajatoggine  dat  e 
ees  no  good,  an'  I  sail  baf  to  maka  mysef  un> 
da  de  oblignzioue  to  Signer.  Dio  Miol  oome 
sono  malagurosa !    Dio  mio !" 

This  was  spoken  with  very  sweet  modulft- 
lions  of  the  broken  English,  and  accompanied 
by  very  pretty  and  expressive  gestures.  Her 
ejaculation  of  "Dio  mio"  sounded  exactly 
like  the  English  "Dear  uie,"  which,  nonsensi* 
cul  as  English,  may  possibly  be  an  importation 
of  the  Italian  as  used  by  this  lady.  Fred  felt 
quite  spellbound  at  the  beauty  of  her  face,  the 
witchery  of  her  glance,  the  wonderful  mobil- 
ity of  her  features,  and  her  never  ending 
clinuge  of  expression.  He  bad  no  idea  in  par- 
ticular as  he  looked  upon  her,  except  a  very 
vague  one  of  a  "  dear  gazelle  "  that  bad  oome 
to  glad  bim  with  its  soft,  blu<;k  eye. 

"  We  not  know  de  oder  ones  of  us,"  said  she, 
after  a  pause,  during  which  the  eyes  which 
were  fixed  upon  bim  went  on  steadily  deepen- 
ing their  fascination.  "Bisogna  dat  we  af 
de  cognoscenza.  Permitta,  I  sail  presentare 
mysef.  Signer,  I  am  de  Cuntessa  di  Carrara, 
an  sail  be  unda  de  obligazione  iufinite  to  Sig- 
ner." 

Saying  this,  she  held  out  her  little  band. 
Fred  took  it,  and  then  and  there  caved  iii  ut- 
terly. In  the  space  of  about  five  minutes  this 
beautiful  stranger  had  come,  seen,  and  con- 
quered. As  that  little  band  lay  in  bis,  the 
touch  thrilled  through  every  fibre.  His  brnia 
whirled  in  a  tumult  of  excitement.  So  con- 
fused indeed  was  he,  that  be  forgot  to  let  her 
hand  go.  He  held  it  tight.  His  eyes  were  fixed 
on  her.  Sbe  on  her  part  regarded  bim  with 
her  sweetest  smile. 

"  The  Countess "  be  repeated. 

"  Carrara,"  said  sbe. 

Fred  looked  at  her  with  all  his  soul  in  bis 
eyes.    Then  be  started  to  pronounce  her  name. 

"Caral"  said  he.  This  was  the  nearest  he 
could  oome  to  it. 

The  Countess  seemed  for  a  moment  embar^ 
rassed,  and  withdrew  her  band  with  a  hasty 
movement.  But  the  next  instant,  ns  though 
reassured,  her  face  resumed  its  former  expres- 
sion. 

"Eet  is  not  dat,"  said  she.  "Eet  Is  Car* 
ra-ni— but.  Signer,  you  af  not  tell  me  your 
name." 


12 


THS  BABES  IN  TUB  WOOD. 


Fred  did  uot  quite  understand  why  the 
Coiinteta  bad  ao  sbarply  snatched  away  her 
band,  and  was  afraid  that  he  had  unintuntion- 
ally  given  offence,  but  ifso  itbad  evidently  been 
at  once  excused.  That  he  should  lose  his  pres- 
ence of  mind  was  certainly  uot  to  be  wondered 
at.  To  encounter  a  woman,  beautiful  as  an 
Huuri,  on  the  lonely  Apennines,  was  a  bewilil- 
ering  thing.  That  she  sliould  be  a  Countess, 
young,  charming,  in  distress,  and  requiring 
bis  aid;  tliat  she  should  seelc  his  assist- 
ance, and  put  sucli  trust  in  him  as  to  in- 
troduce herself— all  this  was  most  unusual, 
most  surprising,  and  at  the  same  time,  most 
delightful. 

"And  now.  Signer  Fodairbe,"  said  she, 
after  Fred  hnd  given  liis  name,  "  weel  you  af 
de  generosita  to  essnmiuare  dees  vettura,  an 
prove  to  try  eef  you  can  geef  me  de  assist- 
enzaT" 

"  Oh— yes— yes— of  course,"  said  Fred,  rous- 
ing himself  to  act.  "By  Jove,  I  forgot  all 
about  it.  Where  Is  it,  and  what's  tlie  mat- 
tert" 

The  Countess  turned  towards  the  carriage, 
and  Fred  did  the  same.  The  Countess  stooped 
slightly,  so  OS  to  point  out  the  damaged  part, 
and  then  went  on  to  explain  all  about  it,  loolc- 
Ing  at  Fred,  and  pointing  to  the  hind  axle, 
which  was  broken.  Fred  got  on  his  knees  to 
see  better.  But  instead  of  looking  at  the 
broken  axle,  our  infatuated  young  friend  fas- 
tened his  eyes  on  the  Countess,  whose  head, 
bending  low,  was  close  by  his,  and  who  from 
time  to  time  turned  to  bewilder  him  with  tier 
deep  glanoes.  Something  In  his  expression 
seemed  to  startle  her.  In  fact,  it  must  be  con- 
fessed that  it  would  have  been  strange  if  she 
bad  not  been  stn^tled.  For  there  was  the 
young  fellow  on  his  knees  before  her,  with  his 
eyes  fixed  on  her  in  a  sort  of  rapt  abstrac- 
tion. She  caught  this  glance,  and  her  eyes 
rested  for  a  moment  as  she  looked.  The  un- 
happy youth  was  evidently  very  jfar  gone. 
He  was  trying  to  utter  her  name.  And  thus 
as  their  eyes  met,  he  again  [sighed  out— 
"Carol" 

For  a  moment  a  smile  played  about  her 
features,  and  then,  giving  a  pretty  little  ges- 
ture of  despair,  she  threw  up  her  eyes  with  a 
■igb,  and  said: 


"  Dio  roiol  Signor  Fodairbe,  eet  is  my  belief 
dat  you  are  saying  your  prayers." 

At  this  Fred  jumped  hastily  to  his  feet,  and 
began  a  long  apology,  but  was  interrupted  by 
a  noise  up  the  road,  at  the  top  of  the  hilL 


CH^.PTER  II. 

THK  U)TBLT  8TBANGBR    MAKLj    HEBSIXr  QTTIIB 
AT  HOME— AU.  THE  OTBEB8    DO    OBKISANCT, 

"  Lords  and  ladies  all  make  way — 
Hither  comes  my  lady  gay." 

It  was  a  traveling  carriage,  drawn  by  four 
horses,  and  accompanied  by  a  gentleman 
on  iiorseback.  The  moment  that  he  caught 
sight  of  it,  Fred  dropped  abruptly  out  of  bis 
dream,  and  became  aware  of  the  realities  of 
life. 

"Ah I"  said  he  to  the  Countess,  "these are 
my  friends,  and,  if  you  have  no  objection,  I 
will  get  you  a  seat  in  tlie  carriage,  and  I'm 
sure  they  will  be  very  happy  to  take  you  the 
resiof  yuurway.  Your  coachman  can  waithere, 
you  know,  and  we  can  send  back  help  from 
the  next  stopping  place." 

"Oh,  Signor,"  said  the  Countess,  "you  are 
too  kind,  nu  de  obligazione  sail  be  infinite. 
MaDiomioI  how  sail  dey  find  place?" 

By  this  time  the  carriage  bad  reached  the 
place,  and  stopped,  while  all  looked  on  in  evi- 
dent surprise  at  the  scene  before  them. 
It  contained  an  elderly  gentleman  and  three 
ladies,  two  of  whom  were  in  the  bloom  of 
youth. 

"  Mrs.  Patterson,"  said  Fred.  "  permit  me  to 
make  you  acquainted  with  the  Countess  de 
Car— rara.  Slie  has  unfortunately  met  with  an 
accident,  and  I  know  your  kindness  of  heart 
so  well  that  I  have  promised  her  a  seat  in  your 
carriage  as  far  as  the  next  stopping  place,  un- 
til her  own  can  be  repaired." 

Mrs.  Patterson  was  a  lady  cf  about  fifty, 
over-weighted  as  to  flesh,  and  decidedly  over- 
dressed. At  this  introduction  she  surveyed 
the  lovely  stranger  with  profound  respect  and 
visible  embarrassment. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Fotherby,"  said  she,  after  a  pause, 
directing  her  remarks  to  Fred.  "I'm  sure  I 
feel  deeply  honored,  and  would  be  a  proud 
woman  to  'ave  tbo  ?M>nor  of  her  ladyship's 


^ 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


13 


gracious  company,  if  lo  t)e  as  how  tbat  she'll 
oondescend  to  hacoept  hot  the  same,  which  itV 
certii];;ly  better  than  footing  it  along  theae 
mounting  roads,  though  bein'  as  she's  a  Coun- 
tess, she  mayn't  lilce  our  'umble  company,  au' 
very  welcome  all  the  same,  an'  I'll  set  on 

BllUe's  lap,  and " 

*'8h— mammal"  said  one  of  the  younger 
ladies,  turning  quite  red  witli  mortification, 
and  pulling  her  mother's  ample  dress.  "  Papa, 
dear,  please  get  down  and  let  the  Countess 
bare  your  place." 

The  Countess  stood  smiling  and  beaming 
I  upon  the  ladies,  and  looked  excessively  gra- 
Icious  and  amiable;  while  Mr.  Patterson,  obedi- 
lent  to  his  daughter,  likeagood  papa  ns  he  was, 
Igot  out  with  very  creditable  alacrity,  and 
[placing  his  port  ly  frame  before  the  Countess, 
■held  out  his  hand. 

"  My  dear,"  said  he,  taking  the  little  hand 

|wbich  was  extended,  "  I  feel  /lonored— I  do, 

[indeed.    This  'ere  Is  a  proud  moment,  an'  'ere's 

rishin'  you  many  'appy  returns." 

With  these  words  he  bowed  low,  and  mo- 

|tioned  with  a  graceful  wave  of  his  band  to  the 

seat  which  he  bad  just  left 

"  'Arriet,"  he  continued,  "  'old  out  your  'and 
in'  'elp  'er  ladyship  up." 

'Ma!  I  Traid,"  said  the  Countess,  "dat  Idrif 
fou  from  your  seat,  an'  dat  luoos  nefare  be." 
"Ob,  your  ladyship  I"  said  Mrs.  Patterson, 
there's  lota  of  room.  You  needn't  think 
fou'll  scrowge  ua." 
"Mamma,  dear,"  said  the  vigilant  daughter 
rho  had  spoken  before,  "you  come  and  sit 
Btween  us— there's  plenty  of  room,  and  then 

)  CouBtess  can " 

'No,  no,"  said  Papa  Patterson,  interrupting 
ber,  "  leave  mother  where  she  ia.  'Arriet,  I'll 
Xo  on  the  box." 

This  arrangement  was  evidently  the  best, 
md  old  Patterson  at  once  clambered  up  to  the 
Iboz,  which  he  regained  after  a  somewhat  pro- 
llonged  effort;  while  the  Countess,  with  many 
Igrateful  apologies  in  her  sweetest  manner, 
I  took  her  seat  in  the  carriage. 

Mamma  Patterson  then  solemnly  introduced 
|the  others. 

'  My  lady,"  said  she,  "  allow  me  the  honor 
presentin'  to  you  my  darter  'Arriet,  which 
lie's  a  young  lady  of " 


But  (he  remark  was  interrupted  by  a  twitch 
of  Mamma  Patterson's  dress,  administered  by 
the  unhappy  'Arriet,  who  seemed  sensitiTe  to 
an  undue  extent  about  her  fond  jother'i  little 
deficiencies,  and  made  it  her  miai.on  In  life  to 
keep  her  straight.  'Arriet  herself  was  by  no 
means  bad  form— tall,  fine  shape,  full  bust, 
pleasing  features,  fashionable  out,  general  air 
of  one  who  had  enjoyed  what  the  boarding- 
schools  call  "superior  ad  vantages."  The  Coun- 
tess bowed  sweetly,  and  looked  at  the  other 
lady. 

"This,  my  lady,"  said  Mamma  Patterson, 
"is  my  daughter  'Arriet's  friend,  Mistt  Kitty 
Kinnear." 

Miss  Kitty  Kinnear  was  very  different  from 
'Arriet.  She  was  petite;  she  was  a  blonde— a 
sweet,  round  face,  wiiii  an  exquisite  smile.  The 
aspect  of  Miss  Kitty  denoted  perfect  cheerful- 
ness and  self-contentment.  The  horseman  had 
diamounted  on  bis  first  arrival,  and  talked 
with  Fred,  who  now  led  him  up  by  bis  arm, 
aaying: 

"  Countess,  allow  me  to  make  you  acquainted 
with  my  friend,  Mr.  Smithers." 

The  Countess  bowed. 

"  I  am  ver'  'appy,"  said  she,  "  to  make  your 
ooquoscenza,  Signer  Smeedair,  an'  of  all  de 
societa." 

Arrangements  had  now  to  be  made  about 
the  wrecked  coach.  After  some  consideration, 
the  coachman  was  directed  to  follow  with  the 
horses,  so  as  to  bring  back  a  new  vehicle  from 
Temi;  while  Papa  Patterson's  coachman  was 
left  behind  to  watch  with  Fred's  horse.  By 
this  arrangement,  Fred  was  able  to  secure  a 
seat  close  by  the  Countess,  which  seat  was  the 
coachman's  box.  Here  he  placed  himself,  and 
took  up  the  ribbons  with  the  air  and  attitude 
of  a  master  charioteer.  And  now  crack  went 
the  whip,  and  away  went  the  carriage,  bearing 
with  it  Fred  and  his  fortunes. 

Papa  Patterson  sat  silent  for  a  time,  and  at 
length  projected  a  broad  face  over  his  shoul- 
der, that  beamed  on  those  in  the  carriaii;e  like 
the  full  moon  from  behind  a  oloud. 

'*  Loo-wheezer,"  said  Papa  Patterson. 

"  Well,  duokyr'  said  Mamma  Patterson. 

"  I  hope  you're  maldn'  it  pleasant  down  there 
for  'er  ladyship." 

"  Oh,  I'm  doin'  my  'umble  dooty;  neTer  joa 


14 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


niiud,  lovey;  if  you're  ooiufortable,  I  am— an' 
'er  ladyship,  too,  I  'umbly  'ope." 

After  a  few  minutes  the  full  moon  appeared 
onue  more,  and  it  was  again : 

"  Loo-whetszer." 

"  Well,  duoky." 

"  P'raps  'er  ladyship's  'ungry ;  offer  'er  some 
of  tliem  sangwitches." 

Now,  these  remarks,  and  others  like  tliem, 
appeared  to  afford  the  fair  'Arriet  exqiiisiti- 
pain,  at  least  as  far  as  the  expression  of  her 
face  could  show;  hut  she  made  no  reraarlc. 
She  sat  there,  an  example  to  all  daughters 
who  are  unfortunate  enough  to  have  uu- 
grammatioal  parents,  and  with  the  meekness 
of  a  martyr  at  the  stake.  As  for  the  Countess, 
she  did  not  appear  to  be  aware  of  anything 
out  of  the  way;  hut,  perhaps,  tier  limited  ac- 
quaintance with  English  prevented  her  from 
detecting  the  coarseness  of  accent  that  marked 
the  dialect  of  papa  and  mamma  Patterson ;  or 
perhaps,  again,  she  was  too  much  of  a  lady  to 
appear  to  be  conscious  of  it.  At  any  rate, 
she  took  no  notice  wliatever  of  these  things, 
but  sat  there,  like  a  benignant  being  from  an- 
other sphere. 

Fred  was  dose  by  her  on  the  coachman's 
box,  driving.  He  did  not  say  much.  Not 
because  he  was  not  talkative,  for  generally  he 
was  never  at  a  loss  for  anything  to  say  among 
the  ladies— the  young  dog.  On  the  present 
occasion,  however,  he  said  not  a  word.  Either 
he  bad  not  yet  emerged  from  that  state  of 
mental  ooma  into  which  be  bad  been  thrust 
by  the  Countess,  or  the  task  of  driving  down 
a  mountain  side,  with  four  gallant,  prancing 
ohargers,  gave  sufiQcient  otioupation  to  brain 
aa  well  m  muscle. 

The  burden  of  the  entertainment  was  con- 
ducted by  'Arriet.  *Arriet  felt,  indeed,  to  a 
painful  degree,  the  responsibility  of  her  pre- 
sent nituatitn.  The  duty  devolved  upon  her 
of  entertaining  this  noble  stranger.  Yet,  for 
Bosue  time  after  the  noble  stranger's  advent, 
Harriet  sat  sllentand  distrait.  She  was  a  prey 
to  profound  embarrassment.  Never  before  bad 
■be  come  into  close  contact  with  nobility. 
Here  was  a  Countess,  face  to  face  with  her. 
She  felt  that  strange  complicated  emotion 
common  to  Englishmen  and  Englishwomen  in 
the  presence  of  Rank  and  Title— that  impulse 


to  kneel  down  in  speechless  awe,  combined 
with  an  equally  vehement  self-assertion.  A 
struggle,  therefore,  raged  in  'Arriet's  gentle 
bosom,  and  in  the  play  of  emotion  mind  oame 
to  grief.  She  sat  for  some  time,  her  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  cliin  of  the  Couiittss  with  a  glassy 
stnre,  hor  mouDi  curved  into  a  rigid  smile,  and 
tier  thoughts  hopclestily  wool-gathering.  The 
proud  coiisciniisncss  of  this  glorious  and  un- 
paralleled situation,  did  not  desert  her,  how- 
ever, but  underneath  all  her  embarrassment 
sustained  iter.  This  elevation  of  soul  waa 
manifest  in  various  movements,  which  might 
be  called  bridling,  or  purring.  And  it  was  in 
the  midst  of  a  scries  of  bridlings,  and  purrings 
that  'Arriet  addressed  herself  to  the  task  of 
entertaining  her  company. 

"  I  hope,  my  lady,  that  you  feel  yourself 
quite  comfortal)leT" 

"  Oh,  si  vis."  answered  the  lovely  stranger ; 
"  eet  is  mos  conveniente,  and  I  am  vary  ob- 
ligata." 

A  pause.  'Arriet  bridles  and  purrs.  Then 
a  rcmarlc  of  startling  abruptness,  which  was 
utterly  inconsequential. 

"  Is  hia  Holiness  quite  well,  my  lady?" 

The  little  Countess  frowned,  and  tried  to 
fathom  the  meaning  of  the  remark.  At  length 
she  seemed  to  comprehend  it. 

"  Ees  Oliness,  ah !  I  not  know.  I  belief  dat 
e  is." 

"  Have  you  ever  been  in  England,  my  lady  t" 

The  Countess  shook  her  little  head  with  aiad 
smile. 

"Your  ladyship  don't  know  Sir  Alexander 
Murphy,  I  suppose?" 

This  personage  was  the  only  human  being 
with  a  title  with  whom  'Arriet  had  ever  before 
come  into  any  connection.  He  was  the  Mayor 
of  Tiddleham,  who  bad  been  knighted  on  the 
occasion  of  a  visit  of  Her  Majesty,  and  who,  as 
patron  of  a  boarding-school,  had  once  given  to 
'Arriet  a  prize  for  good  bcliavior. 

"  Sarallasandamnffa "  The  Countess  re- 
peated this  with  a  puzzled  look.  "  What  ees 
it?" 

"  An  English  nobleman,"  said  'Arriet,  with 
some  pride. 

"Oh I  an Ingelees nobilemon, so." 

"I  haven't  associated  much,  as  yet,  with  the 
Continental  aristocracy,"  said  'Arriet,  "aod 


■; 


\ 


THE  BABBB  IN  THE  WOOD. 


18 


have  not  beeu  able  to  compare  them  with  our 
EogHsh  nobility." 

The  Countess  seemed  to  talie  nil  this  sen- 
tence into  her  little  bend,  turn  it  over  in  the 
recesses  of  her  brain,  ponder  over  it,  puzzle 
about  it,  and  anally  give  it  up  as  nn  insoluble 
conundrum.  Finally  she  adopted  what  seemed 
to  hor  the  easiest  way  of  getting  out  of  it, 
which  was  by  smiling  nud  throwing  an  amiable 
lool£  at  'Arriet. 

Whereat  'Arriet  bridied  and  purred,  and 
launched  forth  into  a  biography  of  Sarnlla- 
sandamatfa,  which  was  intended  to  convey  to 
the  Countess  a  faint  idea  of  the  grandeur  of 
the  Patterson  connection. 

All  this  time  the  carriage  was  rolling  down 
the  long  winding  way.  And  now  shall  I  take 
advantage  of  this  to  describe  the  scenery  that 
presented  itself  along  the  way.  Shall  I  basely 
button-hole  the  reader,  and  bore  him  with  an 
account  of  the  winding  road,  the  bordering 
trees,  the  wooded  slopes,  the  ravines,  the 
gloomy  gorges,  the  ruined  castles,  the  cluster- 
ing hamlets,  the  rolling  clouds,  the  woods,  the 
groves,  the  vineyards,  the — iu  short— but  I  for- 
bear. Let  the  reader  Qll  all  this  in  with  his 
own  Imagination. 

Papa  Patterson,  mounted  on  the  box,  felt  a 
sustained  desire  to  do  the  agr>;eable  to  his  fair 
guest.  He  believed  that  he  ought  to  make  it 
pleasant  for  the  Countess.  He  deplored  the 
silence  of  his  wife,  and  her  lack  of  proper 
spirit.  In  vain  he  called  again  and  again  to 
"Loo-wheezer."  At  last  he  concluded  to 
buckle  to  himself. 

He  turned  and  cleared  bis  throat  to  attract 
attention.  The  Countess  also  turned  and 
raised  her  eyes.  Very  beautiful  were  those 
eyes,  and  to  Papa  Patterson  thought. 

"Ehem  I-  -fine  weather  this,  my  lady ! "  said  he. 

"  O,  Dio  It  lo'  magutflca!"  said  the  Countess. 

"Native  of  these  parts,  my  lady?"  inquired 
Papa  Patterson,  feeling  more  emboldened. 

The  Countess  gave  an  amiable  smile,  which 
be  understood  aa  conveyiqg  an  assent,  but 
which  the  Countess  might  have  given  forth 
with  a  less  specific  idea. 

"  Fine  agricultural  country,  my  lady,"  he 
continued. 

"  Bellissima,"  said  the  Countess. 

"  Fine  soeneiy,"  continued  Papa  Pattenon, 


giving  a  flourish  with  his  arm,  so  aitooompr^ 
bend  in  his  gesture  the  univene  In  generaL 

The  CountcMs,  smiling,  aoquieaoed. 

"  And  yet,  my  lady,"  said  the  papa,  "  the 
beauty  is  only  on  the  outside.  It's  ony  awhit- 
ing'd  suppulchre." 

The  Countess  still  smile<l,  as  though  quite 
agreeing  with  him.  The  smile  emboldened 
Patterson,  and  created  a  grateful  surprise  at 
the  same  time. 

"Ti'S,  my  lady,"  he  continued,  "it's  aa  the 
poet  says — 

'  Every  prospect  pleases. 
And  only  man  la  ylle.* 

But  Loiv  terewly  orf  ul  to  think  that  thisshould 
be  thus.  It's  Satan  entorink  into  Paradise  over 
again." 

"Satan!  Paradisol"  repeated  the  GounteM, 
in  surprise,  looking  at  Patterson  inquiringly. 

"  Tes,  my  lady— I  always  mean  what  I  aay." 

The  Countess  looked  around  at  the  others 
with  a  glance  of  amiable  inquiry.  'Arriet  bad 
beard  these  remarks  of  the  Papa  with  imin, 
and  tried  to  interfere,  but  in  vain.  The  Papa 
had  mounted  a  hobby,  and  was  evidently 
bound  to  ride  it. 

"  Tes,  my  lady,"  said  he;  "  it's  doomed.  This 
country  is  all  'oneycombed  with  fiery  lava, 
and  streams  of  melted  rock.  It's  my  belief 
that  Italy  stands  right  nt)ove  the  lake  that 
burneth  with  fire  an'  brimstone.  'Enoe  the 
volcanic  heruptlons.  They  show  what's  oomin* 
when  the  set  time  arrives." 

Most  of  this  was  spoken  in  a,  loud,  preaching 
tone,  which,  added  to  the  strangeness  of  the 
words,  served  to  mystify  the  Countess  still 
more.  She  began  to  look  as  though  she  sus- 
pected that  the  genial  Papa  Patterson  might 
be  out  of  bis  wits.  But  now  Fred  came  to  the 
rescue,  and  the  eloquenee  of  Patterson  was 
checked  abruptly. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said,  sharply.  "  You'd  bet- 
ter look  out,  you  know.  This  country  swarms 
with  spies  in  every  nook  and  corner.  Tou'd 
l)etter  hold  your  tongue  till  you  get  out  of 
this,  or  else  you'll  find  yourself  seized  before 
you  know  it." 

At  this  the  Papa  turned  as  pale  as  death. 

"Seizedl"  he  faltered. 

**  Of  course,"  said  Fred,  ith  the  air  of  one 
who  knew  all  about  it    "They  bear  every 


rsr— - 


16 


TEB  BABES  IN  TUB  WOOD. 


\   '        _ 


itorA  that's  spoken.  .  For  my  part,  I  only  hope 
that  you  baven't  gone  too  far  already." 

Tbe  Pnpa  stnred  nil  around  witb  a  glantje  of 
terror,  and  drew  n  long  breath. 

In  fact,  for  «ome  rensou  or  other,  Patterson 
bad  been  so  impreBsed  by  wbnt  Fred  had  snid, 
that  he  continued  to  ent  his  own  words  all  tbe 
rest  of  tbe  way  to  Terni. 

Arriviag  at  Terni,  the  carriage  drew  up  at 
tbe  Inn.  Fred  assisted  the  (Tountess  out.  Papa 
PHtterson  got  down  in  time  to  meet  ber  as  she 
reached  the  ground. 

"  I  'ope  your  ladyship  '11  take  pot  luck  witb 
m,"  said  he. 

"Potta  lucca,"  repeated  tbe  Countess,  doubt- 
fully. But  'Arriet  interposed,  and  translated 
tbe  Papa's  invitation  into  more  presentable 
English. 

The  GounteM  caught  Fred's  eye,  and  smiled. 

"Everamente  molto  eucen  trico,"  said  she, 
glancing  nt  tbe  Papa. 

On  the  whole,  the  Papa  was  satisfied  with 
himself  on  the  role  of  host  and  man  of  the 
world.  He  confided  bis  sentiments  to  tbe 
Mamma. 

"That's  tbe  way,"  said  he;  "the  only  way 
to  do,  Loo-wlieezer.  is  to  talk  straight  up  to 
'em ;  show  them  foreign  nobles  that  they  ain't 
a  mite  better'n  you.  Arter  ail,  they  ain't 
much ;  an'  as  for  them  Italian  nobles,  why,  I 
oould  buy  up  any  ten  of  'em  without  winkin'." 

They  remained  at  Terni  till  tlieCountess  was 
ready  to  resume  ber  journey.  'Arriet  did  most 
oi  !He  entertaining.  Fred  continued  in  a  daze. 
'Arriet  saw  this  with  regret,  and  wished  that 
he  bad  a  little  more  aristocratic  hauteur  and 
grandeur.  'Arriet's  ideal  of  such  was  the 
haughty  baron  of  the  melodrama.  Kitty  was 
Tery  amiable,  but  not  much  inclined  to  put 
herself  forward. 

Mr.  SmiUiers  asked  Kitty  bow  she  liked  tbe 
Countess. 

"  Ob,  I  think  she's  awfully  pretty,"  said  Kit- 
ty, "and  nice,  too.  and  all  that,  you  know;  but 
I  do  wish  that  Harriet  wouldn't  be  so  very 
•Illy." 

The  Countess  continued  to  be  amlal>le,  agree- 
able, accessible,  and  all  tbat.  Her  English  was 
certainly  a  little  mixed,  and  full  of  trifling 
mistakes  in  tbe  use  of  words;  such  as  to-mor- 
row for  yesterday,  ber  for  it,  eat  for  driuk. 


come  for  go,  bat  for  boot,  fly  for  ride,  cow  for 
horse,  iind  so  on,  but  it  mattered  little. 

NoTS.— [The  Pap«  is  William  Pattemon,  Esq.,  oom- 
mouly  called  Billy  Patterson,  and  uomotimps  Pill 
Patterson;  very  rich,  latterly  banker  or  money  lend 
er;  also  owner  of  a  meeting-house,  in  vhloh  he  holds 
forth  himself;  and  now  taking  a  tour  on  the  Con- 
tinent for  the  benefit  of  self  and  family.  And  he 
made  his  money  by  Patterson's  Pills,  which,  with 
his  Plaster,  Powder,  and  Patent  Medicines  general- 
ly, are  well  known  through  the  medium  of  adver- 
tisements all  over  the  Continent  of  Europe.  And  If 
'Arriet's  Papa  isn't  good  enough  for  her,  all  I  can  say 
is,  that  she  couldn't  'lelp  that.] 


CHAPTER  III. 

THK  WOKS  OF  MOOINTT— BE  LOBKS  HIS  BEATTTT 
AND  DABE8  NOT  SHOW  HIS  FACE  TO  HIS  BB- 
LOVSD. 

"  Poor  HoOinty,  what  a  pity  I 
Who  can  break  the  news  to  Bitty." 

It  Is  Rome.  A  golden  sunset  over  tbe  eternal 
city.  Our  friend  Smitbers  strolls  along  tbe 
Gorso,  and,  entering  a  doorway,  ascends  to  the 
second  story,  when  he  l^nocks  at  a  door. 

"Come  In." 

At  this  invitation  be  entered. 

"Well,  Cary,"  said  he,  "  I'm  back  again." 

At  this  a  man  sprang  up  from  a  lounge,  and 
hurrying  toward  him,  grasped  bis  band  and 
shook  it  most  furiously. 

"  McGinty !"  be  ciied ;  "  by  all  that's  holy.  Mo- 
Ointy,  me  boy,  welcome  back ;  and  here's  hop- 
in'  that  ye  bring  luck  with  ye.  I  didn't  expect 
ye  back  so  soon,  and  yer  the  very  man  of  all  mln 
I  wanted  to  see.  But  come,  sit  down,  quinch 
yer  thirrust ;  light  up,  and  fire  away." 

Witb  these  words  Gary  rolled  out  an  arm- 
chair from  a  corner,  pushed  forward  a  flask  of 
wine  and  a  tobncoo-box,  with  pipes,  tbat  were 
on  the  table,  and  to  these  for  some  time  the 
two  devoted  their  attention. 

Our  friend,  who  now  was  thus  bailed  as  Mo- 
Ginty  was  a  man  of  apparently  about  twenty- 
five  years  of  age.  His  face  was  somewhat  mark- 
ed by  tbe  small-pox,  while  its  lower  part  was 
oonoealed  by  a  short,  heavy  beard.  Cary,  his 
companion,  seemed  to  be  about  ten  years  older, 
his  beard  and  hair  were  long,  after  a  fashion 
much  cultivated  in  those  days  by  artists  in 
Rome ;  while  bis  eyes  were  restless,  keea  and 


- .■■^.v^-~.^.-~— 


uUirMWaWH 


I 


THE  BABES  IN  TUE   WOOD. 


17 


penetrating.  Both  of  tlu-in  npoko  with  a  sliglit 
Irisb  accent,  wliich  was  scarci'ly  discernible, 
however,  in  MoQinty. 

"  Well,  mel)oy,"  said  Cary,  "I'm  glad  you're 
back.  How  goes  it?  How  lias  your  busint'ss 
succeeded?" 

•'  Well,"  paid  the  otlier,  with  a  sigh,  "its  suc- 
ceeded, and  it  hasn't.  Tiiu  fact  is  I'm  in  an 
inferntilly  tisht  place,  and  I  dor.  t  know  but 
that  I'll  have  to  get  your  advice  about  it." 

"Advice  is  it?  Sine  ye  may  trust  an  Irlsh- 
mau  to  give  you  that,  and  lots  of  it,  too;  but  as 
I  don't  happen  to  understand  the  least  thing 
in  life  about  thoseaffairs  of  yours,  ye'll  have  to 
enli(;hten  me  l)y  way  of  givin'  me  aclmnce  to 
see  how  tlie  ground  lies." 

•'Well,  Cary,  my  boy,  I've  made  up  my 
mind  to  that.  It's  a  very  delicate  subject ;  but 
I  must  have  the  advice  of  some  sensible  friend, 
or,  atuny  rate,  talk  it  over,  and  have  a  discus- 
sion ;  and,  perhaps,  in  the  course  of  the  discus- 
sion somethiug'll  turn  up." 

"Sure,  an'  here's  yer  t^insible  friend,"  said 
Cary,  "  and  row  ye  may  l)egin  to  pouer  forth 
your  coufldiucesas  quick  as  yo  like." 

"Its  a  lovo  affair,"  said  McGinty. 

"Didn't  I  know  it,  miself  did," said  Cary. 

"And  divvlea  oneof  me  can  see  how  its  go- 
ing to  end." 

"Well,  well,  first  of  all,  lets  have  the  l)egin- 
nln'." 

"I'll  tell  you  the  whole  story,  from  beginning 
to  end,"  said  McUinty,  "and  tlu'u  you'll  see 
whether  there's  any  hope  iu  life  for  the  likes 
of  me." 

McGiuty  eyed  the  bowl  of  liis  pipe  witli  a 
glance  of  dismal  gloom,  and  lieaving  a  sigh, 
continued: 

"  It  was  three  years  ogo  tliat  I  first  saw  her. 
It  was  in  the  "Vatican.  I  was  copying  a  cherub 
out  of  Domeuichino.  She  came  along  in  com- 
pany with  a  friend.  1  caught  lier  eye  as  she 
looked  up  at  me.  She  gave  me  such  a  look 
— u  look,  sir,  that  made  me  tingle  and  quiver! 
From  tliat  moment  I  was  lost." 

"  I  see— I  see,"  said  Cary.  "  A  case  of  lovo  at 
first  sight.  That's  iminiutly  Irisb,  McGiuty, 
me  boy— go  ahead." 

"  I  was  tninsfixed.  Such  a  face  I  never  saw. 
It  was  the  face  of  Beatrice  Cenoi,  only  it  was 
a  laughing  face— only  (he  eyes,  instead  of  over- 


flowing with  tears,  were  brimming  over  uith 
fun.  This  was  the  face  that  haunted  me— a 
laughing  Cenci— a  teasing,  enticing,  witching 
face,  yet  one  with  infinite  posslljilities  for  ten- 
derness. At  first  I  thought  it  was  only  my  art 
that  was  concerned " 

"  But  soon  found  it  was  your  lieart.  Ah,. 
well,  the  old  stoiy,  you  know." 

"  Well,  I  ought  to  liave  followed  her  at  once, 
but  was  too  stupid.  Afterwords  I  saw  lier 
again.  I  traced  lier  liouu",  I  found  out  iu-r 
name.  She  was  witli  her  parents  and  some 
friends  who  were  residing  hero.  Her  name 
was  Kilty  Kiiinear." 

*'Not  a  l>ad  name  either,  as  names  go,*'  said 
Cary,  lietween  the  whiffs  of  bis  pipe. 

"The  next  thing  was  how  to  get  acquainted. 
First  of  all,  I  moved  to  the  saiue  lodging  house,, 
and  secured  apartments  on  the  same  floor. 
Out  I  found  myself  as  far  off  as  ever.  English 
reserve  made  a  barrier  worse  than  many 
lilocks  of  houses.  I  then  spent  all  my  time  ia 
trying  to  hit  upon  some  plan  of  gaining  her 
aequaiiif  ttJice.  First  of  ail  I  tried  a  very  com- 
mon Tuse.  I  took  a  picture  to  their  rooms,, 
pi'etending  tliat  it  had  been  ordered  by  Mr^ 
Kiiinear.  It  was  a  failure.  I  didti't  see  her, 
but  saw  old  Kiiinear  himself,  wlio  proved  to 
me  most  conclusively  that  he  had  never  or- 
dered it  at  all.  My  next  plan  was  a  disguise. 
I  had  a  smooth  face  in  tliose  days,  so  I  put  on 
a  beard  and  appeared  before  old  Kinnearas 
a  cicerone  m  search  of  emiiloy.  No  go— snub- 
bed again.  Old  Kinnear  preferred  going  about 
witliout  a  guide." 

"Ila!  ha!  ha!  h'a!  ha!"  roared  Cary.  "All 
rigiit,  old  i)oy— no  offence.  I  lilce  tills,  though. 
You're  an  Irishman  to  the  back  bone.  Trot 
on,  diiriint." 

"Well,"  continued  McGinty.  "  I  was  at  ray 
wit's  end.  What  made  it  worse,  was  a  convic- 
tion which  I  bad  that  she  knew  aliout  nil  my 
plans,  that  she  was  watching:  me  with  keen  in- 
terest and  infinite  relish,  to  see  how  I  would 
manage  it.  It  was  sometliing  iu  her  eye,  for  I 
caught  iier  eye  once  or  twice;  a  demure  face — 
but  nn  eye,  by  Jove,  that  held  out  a  signal  to 
me!  Still  there  I  was  kept  away  by  an  infernal 
iuvisiliie  barrier,  from  the  woman  that  I  was 
growing  madder  about  every  day.  I  used  to 
haunt  the  hall,  the  courtyard,  the  conoicrgene. 


18 


TUE  BABES  IN  TUE  WOOP. 


I  nnyliiid  tbera  everywhere.  I  thought  of 
everything  under  the  sun.  At  last  I  hit  upon 
a  desperate  plan.    I  set  fire  to  the  bouse." 

"Set  flrel  Set  Are  to  the  housel  Thunder 
and  turt!  You  didn*t,  though!  Old  Ireland 
for  ever!  Me  boy,  yt-r  an  honor  to  the  sod. 
But  how  did  ye  eontrlve  It?" 

"  Oh,  easy  enough.  I  up8Pt  thesciildino,  and 
the  hot  conls  happened  to  full  on  a  jiile  of 
clothing.  It  made  no  end  of  Kmoke,  and  Mazes 
too.  Irushed  out  and  went  shouting  fire!  Ttie 
bouse  was  roused.  The  uproar  was  tre'nend- 
ous.  Outcamenld  Kinnear.  I  told  him  to  fly 
for  the  love  of  Heaven.  Out  eanie  tlio  re!>t  of 
them,  and  '  among  tlieni.  I  ruslied  up 
and  wanted  to  save  her.  I  ofTi-red  to  carry 
her  down  stairs.  Well,  sir,  the  look  tiiat  the 
little  witch  gave  me!  She  understood  it  all. 
She  informed  me  that  she  believed  tliiit  »\u' 
vould  walk.  And  walk  she  did,  very  quietly, 
after  her  father;  and  the  flre  died  a  natinnl 
death  liefore  any  one  found  out  wliere  it  arose. 

"Well,  after  that  I  began  to  givo  up,  and 
thought  of  stopping  up  the  air  holes  nnd  usii)g 
my  scaldino  for  another  purpose.  But  I  was 
saved  from  this  by  the  sweet  Kitty  iiersilf, 
who  no  doubt  saw  desperation  on  my  face,  and 
understood  that  I  had  given  it  up.  Weil,  she 
took  pity  on  me,  and  began  to  liave  a  very 
strong  desire  to  study  painting  in  oils— and  as 
I  was  so  convenient,  slie  tliought  of  me  as  an 
instructor;  and  so  she  asked  the  Concierge  if  lie 
thought  I  would  be  willing  to  give  lessons  in 
that  same.  Was  1  willing?  Tliinkofit!  Was 
I  willing  to  go  to  Heaven  ?  Well,  the  road  was 
open.  There  I  vas  at  last,  in  the  bosom  of  the 
family. 

"Now  there's  no  way  in  life  equal  to  giving 
lessons  on  anything;,  if  ye  want  to  get  on  inti- 
mate terms  with  a  friend — solitude,  seclusion, 
proximity,  everything  combined  to  draw  ua 
together.  I  took  her  to  the  galleries,  I  dis- 
ooursed  on  the  old  masters,  I  told  her  all  about 
the  different  otyles,  to  all  of  which  slie  listened 
with  unvarying  attention,  until  at  last  I  told 
ber  something  of  a  more  tender  nature,  nnd 
she  listened  to  that  also. 

"But  meanwhile  I  had  satisfied  the  elders 
that  I  was  their  equal— that  I  had  an  inde- 
pendent fortune,  and  belonged^o  a  good  fam- 
ily ;  and  was  thus  received  on  a  friendly  and 


familiar  footing.  Every  night  we  had  a  rub- 
ber of  whist.  The  old  man  was  111.  He  bad 
oome  to  Italy,  in  fact,  chiefly  for  his  health. 
At  length  he  grew  worse— malaria,  I  believe. 
I  nursed  lilm.  He  died  almost  in  my  arms.  I 
went  with  them  to  their  home  in  England, 
wliere  they  took  his  remains,  and  then  I  parted 
with  Kitty,  with  the  understanding  that  we 
should  be  married  ut  the  end  of  a  year. 

"  Well,  at  the  end  of  a  year  a  terrible  calam- 
ity befell  me.    I  caught  the  small  pox " 

Here  McGinty  paused,  overcome  with  emo- 
tion. 

"  Well  ?"  said  Cary. 

McGinty  sighed. 

"  Did  you  get  over  It?"  he  asked,  anxiously. 

"No,"  said  McGinty,  with  a  groan. 

"  What !"  exclaimed  Cary.  "  It  didn't  prove 
fatal,  I  hope?" 

"No,  not  quite,"  said  MeGlnty,  in  a  dismal 
voice ;  "  but  the  next  thing  to  it.  I  got  over  it 
—but  I  was  not  the  same.  It  left  me  all  marred 
and  scarred,  as  you  see.  Yon  couldn't  imag- 
ine, to  look  at  me  now.  the  kind  of  man  I  once 
was— straight,  sir,  as  a  rush,  with  features  ns 
classically  and  faultlessly  regular,  sir,  as  the 
face  of  Apollo— and  now!  wliy,  the  flist  sight 
of  this  horrible,  repuNlve  face  made  me  faint." 

Here  McGinty  groaned,  and  sought  refuge  in 
his  friend's  flask. 

"Well,"  he  continued,  "I  wrote  to  Kitty, 
and  told  her  that  a  terrible  calamity  had  be- 
fallen me,  which  had  prevented  my  writing  to 
her  for  some  time,  nnd  would  make  it  neces- 
sary to  postpone  our  wedding.  The  poor  little 
darling  liad  been  terribly  frightened  at  my 
silence,  and  my  letter  was  so  welcome  that  the 
postponemeni.  of  the  wedding  was  u  slight 
matter.  She  never  doubted  my  love— indeed, 
she  couldn't,  for  all  my  letters  were  fuil  of 
that.  But  now  began  the  grand  struggle. 
How  was  I  to  see  her  In  my  chanued  form  ? 
My  face  was  not  merely  changed.  It  had 
grown  horrible — simply  horrible.  As  a  mere 
artist,  it  shocked  my  sense  of  beauty.  How 
terribly  repulsive  It  would  be  to  that  woman 
who  loved  that  other— the  lost  MoGinfy.  So 
how  could  I  present  myself  to  her?  She  had 
engaged  herself  to  ine  when  I  had  my  old  face. 
Under  mv  new  face,  she  wouldn't  even  know 
me,  much  less  lovw  me.    I  should  be  n  new  man 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


19 


14 


entirely  to  her.  1  sliuuUl  have  to  begiu  all 
over  iiguiii,  uud  win  her  love  afvesliugainst  the 
rivalry  of  the  lost  McGiuty?  IIow  could  I  go, 
being,  us  1  8iiid,  a  different  man  entirely,  and 
fuk  her  to  marry  me?" 

"  Be  dad,"  cried  Gary,  "  for  pure  casuistry 
and  metapbysioal  refinement  this  bates  the 
wurruld— so  it  does— but  go  on." 

*' Casuistry  or  not,"  said  McQinty,  "it's  the 
truth— uud  I  had  a  great  struggle  and  anguish 
for  two  loi'.g  years.  I  wrote  ineessanlly  to 
her;  letters  of  undying  love  uud  Udelity.  She 
thought,  at  drat,  tliat  it  was  so'me  money  diiB- 
oulty,  but  I  soon  showed  her  it  was  not  that. 
Tlien  she  siiid  nothing  more  nbout  my  'caliim- 
ity,'  Init  wi'otu  me  iucfssunt  protestations  of 
fidelity  uud  love  und  trust — only— and  tliere 
wus  where  the  slioe  piuched,  she  wislied  to  se. 
me,  and  urged  me  to  oonie  to  her— and  that 
was  tlie  very  thing  I  couldn't  do.  Only  think 
of  that,  will  you.  There's  asitutilloii  for  you! 
There  was  she  dying  to  see  me — I  dying  to  see 
her — and  yet  I  dared  not  show  myself.  Some- 
times I  felt  most  keenly  that  my  conduct  need- 
ed a  fuller  explanation,  and  that  I  ought  to 
take  her  more  fully  iuto  my  confidence.  Her 
implicit  trust  in  me,  her  absolute  faith,  her 
lender  love,  all  so  touchiug,  made  me  feel  this 
the  more.  She  loved  me  so  much  that  I  ought 
to  tell  her;  I  loved  her  so  much  that  I  could 
not  tell  her.  I  knew  that  the  first  sight  of  me 
would  fill  her  with  horror.  1  should  lose  her 
forever.  She  oould  not  lovo  me.  But  I  loved 
her  too  much  to  risk  that. 

"  Well,  at  last  I  couldn't  hold  out  any  longer. 
I  determined  to  know  my  fate.  At  this  junc- 
ture a  happy  thought  sug;;ested  itself.  It  was 
to  go  and  see  her  under  an  ns.sumed  name. 
Further  reflection  gave  me  a  first  rate  plan.  1 
told  her  that  at  last  I  was  in  a  position  to  be 
married,  but  that  I  could  not  go  to  England  in 
person  for  certain  reasons,  which  I  would  ex- 
plain when  we  met — but  that  I  would  send  her 
an  intimate  and  valued  friend  to  bring  lier  to 
me.  She  wrote  back,  in  licr  usual  loving  way, 
and  assured  me  tluit  if  I  were  a  captive  in  a 
dungeon  she  would  rejoice  to  come  to  me 
whenever  I  asked,  and  sliare  ray  fate.  Well,  I 
sent  on  my  friend.  Now,  you  know,  tlie  friend 
was  myself " 

"Yourself!"  said  Gary;  "well,  theaffairis  get- 


ting complicated.    But  didn't  she  know  you?" 

"Know  me!"  said  McQinty,  with  soiuetliing 
like  a  wail  of  despair.  "  Uow  oould  she?  Oh, 
but  it  was  an  awful  moment  that  meeting!  I 
trembled  from  bead  to  foot.  1  couldu't  look 
at  her.  All  my  future  was  at  stake.  Shestood 
waiting  for  me  to  speak.  I  stood  looking  at 
the  U(»or,  with  my  scarred  face  hulf-coucealed. 
A  Ijeard  covered  the  lower  part.  I  didn't  wear 
any  beard  in  the  old  days,  and  though  I  came 
as  another  person,  I  instinctively  turned  my 
fiice " 

"Look  here,  old  fellow,"  cried  Gary,  "  it  ap- 
pears to  me  that  you  make  no  end  of  a  fuss 
about  your  face.  It's  a  very  good  looking 
face,  I  swear,  now.  It's  very  little  marked. 
Ko  one  would  notice  it  excei>t  he  had  a  micro- 
scope." 

"Oh,  no,"  groaned  McQinty.  "You  don't 
know  what  I  once  was.  Why,  Apollo  him- 
self  " 

"  Oh,  bother  Apollo!  cut  on  with  yourstory, 
man." 

McQinty  sighed. 

"  Well,  then,"  he  continued,  "  tliere  westood 
—she  silent,  and  waiting  politely,  of  course,  for 
me  to  siiy  something.  I  unable  to  say  a  word. 
I  handed  her,  In  silence,  a  letter  which  was 
from  her  McQinty,  introducing  me  as  hia 
friend  Smithers.  I  didn't  dare  to  look  at  her. 
She  broke  it,  and  stood  a  long  time  reading  it. 
I  stood  like  a  criminal  awaiting  his  sentence. 
At  last  she  spoke.  In  a  sweet,  low  voice,  that 
trembled  slightly  from  her  deep  ngitation. 

"  '  I  really  hope,'  she  said,  '  that  you  will  par- 
don me,  Mr.  Smithers,  for  keeping  j-ou  stand- 
ing so  long,'  and  then  asked  me  to  sit  down.  I 
stole  a  look  at  her,  and  I  saw  her  eyes  fixed  on 
me.  They  were  moist  with  tears,  but  there 
was  a  smile  on  her  face.  Oh,  I  knew  it  all— the 
tears  were  tears  of  joy  at  the  thought  of  going 
tome,  after  so  long  a  separation— yet  there  I 
was— myself— and  dared  not  tell  her.  Oh,  how 
I  longed  to  catch  her  in  my  arms.  How  I 
longed  to  fling  myself  at  hei'  feet,  and  hide  my 
face,  and  tell  nil.  But  I  did  not.  I  could  not. 
I  could  only  stammer  forth  something  and  sit 
down.  She  sat  near  me— more  lieautiful  than 
ever— with  all  that  delicate  grace  that  I  re- 
membered so  well— that  sweet  expression— 
that  soft,  tender  glance— tliat  bright  smile  of 


20 


THE  BABES  IN  TUE  WOOD. 


iiifliiltu  inirtbfuhif88,  ao  clinracteiigtlo  of  lit-r. 
And  Hheiukud  mo  how  I  had  li-ft  Mr.  MeGiiity  t 
Think  of  that.Cureyl  Ob.only  thiakuf  IhiU!" 
"My  opinion  is,"  said  Ciiry,  " tlmt  you  got 
things  most  iufernutly  mixed  up.  How  do 
you  know  thut  sho  didn't  know  you  uli  the 
time?" 
McGinty  groaned. 

"Oh,  you  don't  understand,"  said  lie.    "At 
any  rate  bIio  couldn't  rt'cognize  mc,  and  slic 
didn't.    Well,  afti-r  that  I  saw  her  constantly. 
She  made  arrangements  to  go  on  with  a  family 
that  were  about  going  to  Italy — a  daughter  of 
tlie  family  had  gone  to  school  onoe  along  with 
her — the  daughter  not  a  had  lot — liut  the  old 
people  something  superhuman  in  their  utter 
vulgarity.      Pill   Patterson,    you    know,    the 
Cockney   medicine   man— and   only    imiiglnc 
my    Kitty    going   with    that    lot.     But    it 
was  all   her   longing  to  get  to  me— to   ra*'! 
and     there    was    I    at    her     elbow.      Tliere 
woa   I.     I    saw   her   every   day.      I    talked, 
walked,  rode,  drove  with  her;  slie  was  always 
gracious,  always  tender— so  eonfoumiedly  gra- 
cious and  tender  tliatlswear  it  was  only  by 
the  strongest  self-restraint  that  I  kept  myself 
from  telling  her  how  I  loved  her— as  Smitliers 
—mind  you,  Smithers.    Over  and  over  again 
1  was  in  danger  of  letting  out  my  secret.    For 
wbeuever  1  talked  of  the  pai)t   it  was  always 
MoOinty'8  past.    My  life,  and  that  of  McGinty, 
bad  evideutly  been  inseparable.    My  distress 
was  BO  great,  that  I  couldn't  work  up  sufD- 
cient  imagination  to  invent  a  new  past,  and  so 
fell  back  on  the  old  one.    She  noticed  that. 
Then,  again,  that  infernal  name  of  Smithers 
Tvas  for  ever  bothering  me.    I  could  never  get 
accustomed   to  it.    Finally,  when  I  did  get  a 
little  accustomed  to  it,  I  found  myself  grow- 
ing jealous  of  McGinty— thought  of  McGinty  ns 
Bome  former  lover  of  hers— took  to  cursing  biin 
for  bis  personal  beauty,  his  graces,  and  bis 
numerous  virtues." 
At  this  Carey  burst  into  a  laugh. 
"  By  Heaven,"  he  cried,  "McGinty,  of  all  the 
Irishmen  I've  ever  met  with,  I  swear  you  do 
most  honor  to  the  ouldcountbry— the  native 
land  of  wbim  and  oddity,  and  cross  purposes 
and  bulla.    Only  I'd  give  something  for  Ave 
minutes'  conversation  with  your  Kitty  on  the 
subject  of  Smithers " 


"  For  Heaven's  sake,  man,  don't  think  of  it 
—  don't  hint  at  It  — you'd  ruin  me,"  cried 
McGinty.  "If  you  do  meet  with  her,  guard 
my  secret— like  your  heart's  blood." 

"  Oh!  as  to  that,  there  is  not  the  least  danger 
In  life— for,  in  tlie  first  place,  I  shall  never  see 
her.    So,  go  on." 

"  Well,  I  was  saying,"  said  McGinty,  "that  I 
grew  jealous  of  myself.  For  you  see  I  saw  uli 
her  grace,  and  beauty,  and  tenderness,  and 
love,  all  lavished  and  expended  on  McGinty, 
while  I— Smithers- only  shone  by  a  reflected 
light.    Can't  you  oompreliend  the  position?" 

"  I'll  be  banged  if  I  can  comprehend  any- 
thing, you've  got  everything  jumlded  up  so." 

"Well,  we  continued  on  these  terms  all  the 
journey  liere,  and  now  things  have  come  to  a 
crisis.  Here  we  are  In  Rome.  Here  she  ex- 
pected to  meet  McGinty,  Well,  what  now? 
where  is  lie?  what  con  I  do?" 

"Divvle  take  me,  if  1  know,  or  can  imagine. 
Ye'll  have  to  find  yer  own  way  out  of  it,  me 
boy." 

"  Well,  I  hit  upon  a  plon.  I  wrote  a  long  let- 
ter at  Florence,  and  handed  it  to  her  not  long 
after  her  arrival  here.  It  was  from  McGinty. 
It  told  her  that  he  had  to  go  to  Naples,  but 
hoped  to  be  back  again  in  time  to  receive  her. 
It  was  full  of  undying  love,  and  all  that,  of 
oouise,  yet  it  must  have  been  a  bitter  disap- 
pointment to  her.  Still  she  didn't  show  if, 
whatever  she  felt.  She  took  it  from  me,  and 
read  it  in  berown  apartment,  so  that  I  didn't 
see  her  *vhile  she  was  reading  it.  It  must  be 
her  faith  that  keeps  her  up,  her  confiding  love 
that  thinks  no  evil.  McGinty,  she  thinks,  is 
truth  itself.  I  saw  her  to-diiy.  She  was,  as 
usual- no  trace  of  disappointment— but  sweet, 
gracious,  smiling,  ever  merry.  I  took  her  over 
the  Vatican,  and  round  to  many  of  our  old 
haunts— the  dear  old  places  of  long  ngo.  Little 
did  she  guess  that  ttie  miserable  sneak,  Smith- 
ers, is  the  old  McGinty  himself,  of  whom  she 
talks  so  incessantly. 

"  And  now  I'm  fairly  at  my  wit's  end.  How 
am  I  to  keep  it  up?  or,  on  the  other  bund,  bow 
am  I  to  end  it?" 

"Well,  me  boy,"  said  Cary,  as  McGinty 
paused,  after  this  appeal,  "nobody  but  an 
Irishman  could  ever  have  constructed  such  f\ 
tissue  of  difficulties  around  his  way.   There  is 


'  1        — 


iiBM 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


21 


ouly  oiiu  tliiuK  iov  yuu  to  do.  Owuup;  toll 
ail ;  make  a  eluuii  lirenHt  of  it." 

"  Too  iutf,"  8nid  MLGliity.  "  Too  lute.  If  I'd 
only  told  lier  so  at  our  IliAt  muftiiig.  If  I'd 
only  gouu  on  iiti  tuysi'lf  instead  of  Smitlu-r'<,  it 
miglit  imvu  turui'd  out  all  liKlit.  Ilur  lovo  for 
MeOinty  iui;;lit  tlii-u  Imvu  survived  lliusliixk 
of  hii*  clianged  face.  But  now— what  am  I? 
Wiftili  that  I  am!  To  her  I'm  not  McGinty  at 
all;  I'm  Smithcra.  Another  man  I  AtfSmith- 
vrs  ;ilu!  knows  me.  As  Smitiiem  ohe  mui^t  al- 
ways tliiuk  of  me.  Dut,  tu  Smlthcrs  I  have  not 
n  my  of  hope,  for  all  her  ooul  turns  to  the  old 
McGinty.  And  he  eau  nover  eoine  again.  So 
what  oau  I  do,  or  how  oau  I  ever  get  out  of 
this?" 

"  Well,  old  man,  you've  got  to  oome  to  it,  you 
know.    Tell  her  all.    Appeal  to  her  love." 

"  No,  no,"  said  MeOinty.  "  It  is  too  late.  It 
i-au't  be  done.  I'm  Smitiiers;  Hbe's  got  ae- 
oumstomed  toSmithers.  ItsiinpossihU^for  her 
to  warm  up  her  friendly  esteem  for  Smithers 
to  the  passionate  love  slie  used  to  have  for  me 
us  McGinty.  Ulie  no  longer  flushes  up  as  in  the 
old  days.  She  uo  longer  feels  tlie  old  thrill 
When  I  eome  near.  Wiiy?  Because  I'm  Smith- 
ers! What  does  she  care  for  me!  Aud  I  couldn't 
marry  her  as  a  mere  friend.  I  wuut  her  love 
—the  old  lovo  tiiat  McGinty  had,  and  that  old 
love  Smithers  can  uever,  uever  gain !" 


CHAPTER  IV. 

UnXE   BOSETTE— ALONE    IN    THE    WOIILD— THE 
POLICE  ON  HER  TRACK. 

Into  Benrice  she  must  go. 
She'U  escape  incognito. 

SoMEfu:t.hur  conversaliou  f(>llowed,  consist- 
ing eiiiefly  of  advice  ou  the  part  of  Gary,  for 
McGinty  to  make  a  clean  breast  of  it,  and  lu- 
gubrious objections  on  the  part  of  tlie  latter. 

"  Well,  old  boy,"  said  Cary,  "  I'm  glad  you're 
back,  at  any  rate,  for  you  oau  be  of  assistance, 
and  cau  do  a  great  service  to  me,  and  to  an- 
other who  needs  it.  What  you've  just  been 
telling  me  shows  me  a  clear  way  out  of  my  dif- 
flculty." 

"  If  I  can  do  anything,  you  may  count  on  me 
— ^no  end — of  course." 

"  Well,  you  oau't  do  much ;  but  this  family— 


these  friends  of  yours— they're  Just  the  ones." 

"For  what?" 

"I'll  explain.  It's  little  Rosette,  poor  little 
thing." 

"Little  Rosette ?" 

"  Y<s.    Rosette  Merivale." 

"Rosette  Merivale?    Don't  know  her." 

"  Dldu't  you  kuow  her  father,  Eugeue  Meri* 
vale?" 

Mt^Ginty  shook  his  head. 

"No?  Well,  very  likely  not.  He  kept  hltn- 
self  rather  close— very  reserved.  Between  you 
and  me,  me  boy,"  continued  Cary,  dropping 
his  voice  to  a  low  whisper,  "he  bad  his  rea- 
sons." 

"Ah?" 

"Yes,"  said  Cary,  in  the  same  tone;  "oon- 
eerned  with  the  Republicans,  you  know." 

"Ah!  a  conspirator?" 

"  II— sill"  said  Cary,  laying  Ids  hand  impres- 
sively ou  Ills  friend's  arm.  "Take  care.  Walls 
have  ears— and  forewarruned,  foreurrnmed. 
But  now  about  little  Rosette.  Merivale  has 
got  into  trouble  with  tlie  authorities." 

"What!  not  arrested?" 

"No;  but  on  the  point  ot  it.  Information 
had  been  given.  The  police  were  after  liiin.  A 
friend  gave  him  the  hint,  and  lie  ran  for  it  at 
once — ran  for  it  on  a  moment's  notice,  without 
packing  up  so  miicli  as  a  era  vat,  or  a  sheet  ot 
paper.  Worst  of  all,  he  had  to  leave  his  daugh- 
ter, little  Rosette,  here,  perfectly  helpless. 
Worse  still,  he  was  afraic  that  the  police,  in 
their  anger  at  his  escape,  might  arrest  her,  iu 
the  hope  of  finding  out  something  from  her,  or 
of  decoying  him  back,  by  using  her  as  a  may- 
jim." 

"Was  Merivale  rea'ly  implioited?" 

Cary  shook  his  head  solemulT. 

"Deeply?" 

"  Well,  about  as  deep,  I  fear,  h»  he  need  be. 
He  was  a  romantic,  poitical  sort  of  a  divvle, 
always  into  the  thick  of  movemints  like  these 
—the  more  fool  he;  but  bowandiver,  here  it  is 
with  him  on  the  wing,  and  little  Rosette  on 
my  hands." 

"  Oh,  she  came  to  you,  did  siie?" 

•'  Of  course.  Where  else  could  she  go?" 

"You  didn't  say  so." 

"Didn't  I?  Well,  you  see,  Merivale  sent  a 
I  letter  to  me  at  onoe,  imploring  me  to  see  about 


22 


TIIK  DAima  IN  THE   WOOD. 


llttli)  Ro8cttt>.  lie  nlno  ciiclonud  oiiu  for  her.  I 
nt  oncH  wcMit  ofT  afUT  liur,  iiiiil  brought  her 
h(!ro  very  m-iTutly,  wHlioiif  delay,  nnd  iioiu'loo 
aodii ;  for  not  iiiort-'ii  (If  Icni  iiiiiiiitcfi  uftiT  I  pot 
htr  (iff,  tlie  jxillco  inailt'  a  ilcsctiit  r)ii  Mi  rlvaloV 
rooms.  Mild  itilzi'd  I'vcry  article  In  It. 

'•Well,  I  Mio'.iied  little  I^iiO'lle  us  well  a-<  I 
couM.  Slie'8  been  lieru  in  liidiii;;  llies(>  two  or 
three  days;  Imt,  you  see  it  Isn't  thepidper 
thing,  at  all  at  all,  foi  the  likes  of  tier— and  it's 
luird  for  nie,  too,  iis  well  as  mighty  linharrn:<8- 
Iiik;  for  you  !»ee  she's  ciyin'  all  tlie  lime, 
and  KO  I'm  at  mt>  nit's  end.  Tho  only  thing  I 
havo  hoped  for,  is  to  flml  souu'  relial)lt*  Eng- 
lish family,  who  wouM  hi*  willing  to  reotnt'i* 
her  and  talce  care  of  iier.  It  would  he  lU'ces- 
8ury  for  tier  to  \io  under  nil  nssumed  name,  for, 
of  course,  it  would  never  do  for  Iut  to  he 
known  as  the  <hiu;:hter  of  tlie  Repuhlionil, 
and  eonspirator— Meriviile." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  that  tliey'd  touch 
her." 

"Tnueh  lier?"  eried  Cary— "  wonUln't  they, 
tliougli?  Thill's  just  what  tliey  wouM  do. 
Wliy,  lunn,  tlu'y'ro  on  tlie  look  out  for  lier 
now.  I  know  that.  An'  they'd  give  n  good 
deal  to  he  alile  to  lay  hands  on  her.  Tliese  an- 
tioklisli  times,  reineniher,  and  no  throne  in 
Eiiroi»u  is  safe.  It's  no  child's  play,  and  tlie 
pollei)  handlo  suspected  persons  without 
gloves." 

"  Well,  I'll  do  nil  in  my  power;  but  whnt  do 
you  think  I  can  do?" 

"  Well,  as  I  said,  I  have  hoped  to  find  some 
English  fumlly,  kind-hearted  people,  you 
know,  who  would  he  willing  to  take  her.  Now, 
these  friends  of  yours  seem  to  me  to  he  the 
very  ones.  But  they  must  not  know  nnytliing 
about  her,  nor  eren  suspect.  Rosette  herself 
must  be  warned  most  solemnly.  She'll  have 
to  go  under  an  assumed  nnme.'' 

"I  could  Introduce  her  as  the  daughter  of  n 
friend  who  hnd  died." 

"  No.  no— none  of  that— she  musn't  go  ns  a 
friend  nt  all." 

"  A  friend  ?    Why,  how  else  cnn  she  go  ?" 

*'  She  musn't  go  as  an  equal— she'd  tell  all 
about  herself,  nnd  once  the  secret  wnsdivulg«'d, 
all  would  be  lost.  She'll  have  to  go  in  such  a  ca- 
pacity that  she  couldn't  make  any  conQ- 
dences." 


"How?" 

"  Well,  I've  been  thinking  she  might  go  as 
lady's  maid." 

"  Lady's  maid!" 

"  Yes.  It  wouldn't  be  for  long,  and  with 
good-natured  people  it  uouln't  Ix*  hard." 

"Well  — If  she  could  only  go  with  Kitty. 
That's  the  way.    I'll  get  Kilty  lo  take  h»  i." 

"Oh!  bother.  No-Kitty  would  never  do- 
Kitty  would  make  too  much  of  a  friend  of  her, 
and  find  out." 

"  Well,  wlint  then?  Kilty  can  keep  a  secret 
IIS  Well  as  either  of  us." 

"  Of  course;  I  only  mean  that  it  wouldn't  bo 
fair  to  subject  her  to  the  unpleasantness  and 
possible  danger  of  such  n  secret." 

"Oh!  I  see;  well,  the  old  lady  might  do— no, 
the  old  lady  would  kill  any  one  with  her  vul- 
garity.   Harriet  would  be  better." 

"Who's  Harriet?" 

"  The  daughter  of  the  family." 

"Well,  why  won't  she  do?" 

"  She  will  do— she's  tho  very  one.  A  lady, 
but  reserved  and  cold-blooded.  She'd  be  civil 
to  Rosette,  without  trying  to  Ilnd  out  her 
secret." 

"  The  very  one.  McGinty,  my  boy,  you're  a 
trump." 

"  I'll  see  about  it  the  first  thing,  ami  by  this 
time  to-morrow  little  Rosette  shall  be  in  her 
new  place." 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE    INCOKSOLADLE    ONE— THE    HOST    rAITnrCI. 
or  SPOUSES— EVILS  OF  MAUnYINO  A  WIDOW. 

Over  Alpine  rocks  and  stones 
Rattle  Malagrida's  bones. 

'•Ye  see,  McGlnty.  me  boy,"  snid  Cary,  nfter 
a  few  moments  of  profound  meditation, 
"  there  are  various  reasons  why  I'm  not  In  a 
position  to  take  care  of  little  Rosette,  nnd  ' 
think,  since  you've  been  so  kind,  I'm  bound  to 
explain  them.  In  the  first  place,  I'vit  got  no 
femnle  belongings,  nnd  don't  want  any.  In  the 
second  place,  Inm  compelled  by  circumstances 
to  Vad  a  rnther  roving  life;  nnd.  In  tho  third 
place,  if  she  wonts  to  be  In  lildlng,  I'm  the 
worst  man  In  the  world  for  her  to  hide  with. 
I  don't  want  to  go  into  particulars.    I'll  only 


I 

I 


i 


I 


THE  nAimS  IN   TIIK    WOOD. 


•i 


Miy  tliiit  I  know  ton  niiit'li  iitioiit  \wr  fatlior'a 
Ht'c'ict  lMl^>lll('l*!*.  Yiiii  mail  THtitiid.  Vcrh\im 
gap." 

McGiiity  noddt'd. 

"  Whiit  yoii'vu  been  tHliiig  me  iilwut  yonr- 
jHir  ictuiiulH  iii(>  of  nil  iifTiiir  (if  iiic  own  tliat'H 
hud  n  Vfiy  jinat  <'ffci't  on  nn-  own  llfr,  iind 
nocounts  al!<(>  for  tin- fai't  of  my  lulu;;  now  c 
lont>  man  In  tlio  worruld,  and  diiitUlintH  of  ni> 
femali*  Ix-loii^in^x,  and,  wlial's  more,  not 
wnnihiK  imy.  Your  oonflilcncc  tn  nn-  maUri* 
mi)  fet'l  inilnii'd  to  maUi-  a  ittuin  of  tlif  j^amc, 
and  who  know.<*  but  (hut  you  may  jn't  Home 
hint  that  may  help  you.  At  any  rate,  a^  T 
feul  in  the  humor,  why  I  don't  mind  tcliin;: 
you. 

"You  know  that  I've  livid  a  varied  life.  I 
wn«  fdncnted  in  Ireland,  nt  Mnynooih.  1  ^ot 
into  trouble  ther<>.  with  tli<> authorities  throu^li 
thu  mcanneM  of  ii  fellow  student  that  pre- 
tended to  be  a  friend,  and  beti'ayed  me  in 
an  affair  which  I  was  en;:iiired  in,  and  of  wliieli 
I  had  made  Idm  my  cDiitldant.  His  natiie  wa.x 
O'Keefe,  I  lie  bloody  traitor,  llefiot  ids  reward 
In  promotion,  patronage,  and  favoi— while  I 
found  it  convenient  to  retire.  Well,  tlien  I 
wandered  abroad,  and  finally  found  myself  in 
Rome.  I  went  to  the  Piopaganda,  pueceeded 
In  getting  In,  but  finally  decided  not  to  be  a 
priest.  Il'samifihty  convenient  thin^r,  thoiif;li, 
to  have  a  priest's  oduention,  and  then  bo  a  lay- 
man. True,  It  don't  give  a  man  theadvnntn;;e 
which  it  did  in  the  days  of  Henry  the  Eighth  of 
England,  or  Syerre,  King  of  Norway,  both  of 
Whom  knew  how  to  light  the  |)riei<ts  with  tlieir 
own  weapons;  howandlver,  a  man  can  lurrun 
it  to  advantage  in  many  ways.  I  found  it  ^o,  I 
know.  I  managed  to  push  my  way,  until  at 
length  I  attracted  the  attention  of  His  Imi- 
ninee,  Cyardlnal  Aguardiente.  I  gradually 
won  his  favor  and  confidence,  till  at  lust  I 
became  his  segretario  camerlereAtid  magglor- 
domo  8trorJii.->"io,  in  whlob  position  I  maile 
money,  possessed  influence,  and  camo  in  con- 
taut  with  many  distinguished  men  of  all  ranks 
and  stations  in  life. 

"Well,  things  went  on  very  well  wifli  me, 
till  one  day  there  wan  an  announcement  of  a 
visitor.  Tlie  title  sent  up  was  Monsignore 
Bally  whack,  a  name  which  was  quite  unpro- 
nounceable by  His  Irainince.   So  I  told  His  ImU 


idnce  it  was  oidy  «omo  ownnidliawn  uf  an 
Irisli  Padre  coming  to  l)eg  money  from  Idm, 
and  got  Instruutluns  to  receive  the  Irlaudeiu 
myself. 

"  Well,  I  went  to  tlie  anjince  chamber,  and 
t  lure  the  door  opened,  and  in  came  Monsig- 
n()r(>  n:illy whack;  and  who  do  ye  thiidc  he 
was?  Can  y«  ever  guess?  By  the  pipcTs  of 
war,  M<01nty,  it  was  no  other  than  that  viper, 
O'Ki'i'fe  himself.  Tareanages!  out  didn't  mo 
blood  Imll  at  the  sight  of  him— <'omin'  there  aa 
a  lii;:li  ecclesiastic,  to  hob  nob  wiil  his  lud- 
ninee!  Well,  I  didn't  pitch  into  him  un  the 
spot,  though  it  might  have  been  bettiT  to  have 
ha'  .t  out.  I  merely  lang  for  servants,  sent 
cut  for  gen-darnna,  ai,  I  had  monsignoi'e  ar- 
resteil  and  paelced  off  to  San  Angelo  in  less 
than  lirteen  miinites,  and  there  I  lutended  to 
keep  him  till  he  got  enough  of  it. 

"  Unfortunately,  McOinty,  me  boy,  man  pro- 
poses, an' that'.<  all.  The  viper  hi.'d  powerful 
rriends,  it  seems,  who  misseil  him,  applied  to 
His  Indninee,  who  at  once  ta.xed  me  with  it.  I 
saw  tliat  all  would  be  known,  and  t'.uit  I'd 
catch  it  hot  and  heavy,  so  I  concluded  to  re- 
tire. T  gathei'ed  together  all  I  hiul,  and  ran  off 
to  Florence,  and  afterwards  to  Vculci-. 

"Well,  I  llioiiglit  I  was  nicely  out  of  it,  and 
began  to  cast  about  for  a  new  occupation  in 
life,  wlien  Fortune  threw  in  my  way  a  beauti- 
fid  widow,  whose  husband  iuul  died  not  long 
before,  leaving  her  inconsolable.  Fortunate- 
ly, she  was  Irish,  and  that  const iehutedn bund 
between  us;  and  so,  with  this  advantage  in  my 
favor,  I  lay  siege  to  the  beautiful  widow,  and 
at  length  achieved  a  conquest. 

"Now,  this  widow  was  the  most  Inconsola- 
ble widow  that  ever  was  known  She  told  me 
frankly  that  she  could  never  forget  the  late 
lamented— s»i'  would  carry  his  Image  to  her 
grave— and  could  never  leave  liis  tomb.  Well, 
I  allowed  all  this  thinking  that  time  and  a 
new  husband  woulil  make  it  all  right.  She 
swore  that  she  could  only  give  me  the  fr.ig- 
ment  of  a  broken  heart;  while  I  had  sufficient 
vanity  to  believe  that  I  could  patch  together 
that  shattered  organ  till  it  became  as  cood  as 
new.  Under  these  circumstances  we  came  to 
an  understanding.  But  before  we  were  mar- 
ried, she  declared  that  she  pined  for  her  na- 
tive land,  yet  at  the  same  time  she  could  not 


24 


THE  BAHES  /Y  THE  WOOD. 


benr  to  In*  |)iirtc(l  from  Iht  dwir  di'ooii«>(l  luis- 
Imiul,  niid  tluTcfon- stipiihitt'd  Hint  we  slioiilil 
onrry  his  romnliiA  with  us  to  Irdntul.  Iiuii};- 
iiie  wliiit  u  thiag  tliat  was!  Fancy  what  ii 
iDiKlman  I  iiitisl  I'.avc  bo'ii  to  inalo<  audi  nil 
Dgrccint'iit !  Put  all  lovers  arc  mad,  and  I  was 
of  course  as  infatuated  as  any  of  thctn. 


ainial>l«  and  li^lit-lioaried  of  lueii  ton  mi«era- 
1)1*1  wreck  of  my  former  self— a  heinj?  with  tho 
heart  of  a  inlsauthrope,  and  the  exterior  of  an 
undertaker;  and  thus  wu  roauhcd  DInio  d'Os> 
xola. 

"  FIcro  the  Alps  rost"  beforo   us.    It  was  the 
month  of  March.    The  road  was  blocked  by 


"Well,  we  wj're  married,  and  then  b»'{j;aii  all  I  snow.    Avalanches  were  falliiur.    We  had  to 
our  woe.    And  now,  me  boy,  yc'U  hear  a  story  ]  wait    a  week    before  it  was  possible  to  luovo 


timt  beats  yours." 
Cary  lefreshed  liimsclf  hcn>  with  a  diau^hl 


Mala^irida.    Every  ilay  I  remonstrated,  ar;;ued, 
coaxed,  prayel,  and  wept.    In  vain.    My  wife's 


from    the    flask,    and    liavins    thus    {;athcred  i  fidelity  to  Mala;;rlda  could  not  be  shaken.    So 


strength,  proceeded : 

"We  started  off.  There  was  our  liifigajre— 
four  trunks;  and  an  enormous  bo.x,  seven  feet 
I"ng,  four  feet  wide,  and  tliree  feet  high,  that 
weighed  abtnit  ten  tons.    It  waslabelletl : 

S/t/'ior  MnUtrjrIdd, 

care  Tinw(U\i  Cary.  Esq., 

QdUvny,  Irelnvd. 

Now,  mind  you,  inside  that  box  was  my  pre- 
decessor, Malajrrida,  and  I  was  expi'cti'd  to  take 
charge  of  that  infernal  machine  all  the  way  by 
land  and  sea  to  Oalway. 

"  I  confess  that  when  I  first  saw  it  T  faltered. 
I  tried  topi'rsuade  my  wife  to  send  it  by  sea  to 
Galw.'ij'.  Hilt  to  this  |)roi>osal  sl.e  would  not 
listen  for  oiu' motneiit.  She  declared  that  she 
oonhl  not  part  with  him.  lie  was  dearer  to 
lier  than  all  tlu«  world.  81ie  would  be  faithful 
to  him  till  death.  In  fact,  McOiiity,  she  was 
Irish— nobody  but  an  Iiisliman  could  havi> 
thought  of  such  a  thing.  Well,  I  couldn't  re- 
sist bar  tears,  and  so  W(i  started. 

"  It  was  the  first  step  that  cost— yes,  and  cost 
money,  too.  Four  miles  of  water  till  we  got  to 
the  land,  and  Malagridn  had  to  be  carric<l  in 
half  a  dozen  barges,  towed  by  n  dozen  gon- 
dolas. It  took  two  or  three  days.  Then  we 
got  him  on  a  wagon,  and  he  rolled  along,  wliile 
we  in  a  carriage  liad  to  go  at  n  walk.  It  was  a 
funeral.  At  VtTona  we  took  the  rail  woy  train, 
wliich  corried  us  and  Malagrida  to  Milan.  At 
Milan  we  had  to  oi'giiiiize  the  funeral  onoe 
more. 

"  N(i  IV  nil  this  preyed  on  my  spirits.  But  be- 
sides all  this  my  wife  was  constantly  in  tears. 
She  discoursed  forever  about  the  virtues  of 
Malngrlda;  told  me  n  hundred  times  tlio  story 
of  their  coirlshlp  and  wedded  lore;  nnd  thus 
gmdunlly  reduced  ine  from  otut  of  the  most 


I  had  to  submit. 

"Well,  we  started.  Malagrida  rccinired  four 
sleds  and  a  file  of  sixteen  horses.  Even  then 
his  weight  wdiild  biiiig  lilm  down  dee]>  in  tlio 
snow  whei-ever  if  was  at  all  soft.  Thiiiy  cau- 
lonniers,  armed  with  shovels,  aceoinpanled  us 
to  dig  him  out.  The  first  day  brought  u-i  only 
paitly  the  way  up  the  ascent.  TIk!  next  day 
we  foiled  on,  and  only  made  n  few  miles.  Wo 
had  to  encamp  all  night  in  agallciy.  Next 
(lay  wc  went  on,  and  an  enormous  avalanchu 
fell  on  Malagridn,  smothei lug  two  horses  and 
stunning  one  man.  I  was  for  leaving  him,  but 
my  wife  denounced  me  so  l>ittcrly  that  leaved 
in.  We  dug  out  Malagrida,  pitched  the  dead 
lioi'ses  over  the  precipice,  and  marched  along. 
Wespcnt  anotlier  night  Inagailery,  cneonnter- 
ed  a  few  more  avalanches,  and  at  leiiglli 
rcaciicd  the  village  of  Simpion.  The  hospice 
is  not  far  off,  and  I  made  n  feeble  attempt  to 
persuad(<  my  wife  to  leave  Malagrida  here 
among  fliesi'  holy  men,  wlio  would  sing  masses 
for  the  repos(>  of  his  soul.  But  slie  would  not 
listen  to  it.  There  never  was  sucli  an  obstinate 
woman  since  the  world  began. 

"  Well,  so  went  a  few  days  more,  and  nt 
lergfh  the  miglity  task  was  achieved.  Tho 
mountain  was  traverseil.  We  were  at  Brieg. 
Here  1  found  myself  still  moreehanged.  I  was 
growing  morose.  I  remonstrated  less  patient- 
ly and  more  sharply  with  my  wife.  She  seated 
herself  on  Mala;:rida,  and  took  refuge  in  tears. 

"  Well,  the  funeral  went  on.  We  reached 
Villeiienf.  Here  we  had  to  put  Malagrida  on 
board  a  steamboat  for  Geneva.  Malagrida 
nearly  fumble<l  overboard,  and  I  indulged  In  a 
wish  that  he  bad  gone  to  the  bottom.  Mj-  wifo 
gave  me  a  look  that  might  liuvo  orushod  uiea 
fortnight  before. 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


25 


"At  Gouovn  I  gruw  aliiir|>»r.  I  saw  tlml, 
aftor  nil,  tlto  joiiriioy  had  only  begun.  I  felt 
thu  litiiniHiitiii!;  ixisition  In  wliicli  I  was  tl><>l 
I,  with  n;y  tulenta  anil  puraonal  advuiitii^t'i), 
should  1)0  a  sort  of  lackey  to  a  niiscriiMi!  crea- 
tun>  like  Mala^rida— a  niist'ralile  Italian,  wlm 
might  liavo  been  a  Jew,  as  many  Venetians 
are.  Why  slionlil  my  wife  ellng  to  liini?  In.>ia- 
tiate  monster  tliat  slm  was,  eould  not  om*  lins- 
ban<1  snfllee?  My  bilternesd  l)roku  fortli  witli- 
out  rest  rail  i 

"Then  we  eamo  to  Momt.  Here  wo  had  a 
battlo — tho  battlo  of  Morat.  I  on  tlie  offensivi' 
— and  I  was  as  offensive  as  I  could  l)e;slieon 
tlio  defensive,  armed  with  tears  and  reproacli- 
t's.  I  told  her  that  I  couldn't  he  Malagrida's 
lackey  any  longer,  and  tliat  she'd  have  to  give 
liiinnp.  She,  on  tlie  otiier  liand,  called  nie  a 
cruel  wreteli,  wept  torrents  of  tears.  Invoked 
ht>r  lost  spouse,  and  imi)loi'ed  Heaven  to  save 
her. 

"Well,  we  went  on.  Malagrida  n>sled  at 
Berne,  at  Basle,  at  Straslmrg,  at  Carlsruhe. 
There,  on  taking  tlie  train  for  Maj-cnce,  1  made 
a  desperate  mov(>,  and  had  him  left  behind. 
But  it  was  no  use.  After  a  fearful  Bcene, 
I  had  logo  liat-k  for  him.  Then  wo  went  to 
Cologne. 

"At  this  point,  my  ptitience  was  all  gont>.  I 
had  grown  to  he  a  sour,  morose,  tierce,  misera- 
ble misanthrope,  furiously  jealous  of  Mala- 
giiiia,  and  anxious  for  veiigeancMMm  him.  My 
wife  was  as  obstinatu  us  ever.  Besides, 
I  got  siek  of  llie  idea  of  going  to  Ireland. 
I  wanted  to  go  to  Paris.  My  wife  insisted 
on  going  to  England  at  least.  1  refused, 
unii'.ss  >l\ti  left  Malagrida  behinil.  This  she 
refused. 

"I  put  the  offer  to  her  point  blank.  I  told 
hersln*  must  now  uhooso  between  me  and  Mal- 
agrida, as  there  wasn't  room  for  both  of  us. 
At  that  very  nn>nK!nt,  sh(!  wa.s  seated  upon  the 
infernal  machine.  I  asked  her  to  como  to  me. 
She  wouldn't.    Sli(>  chose  Malagritln. 

"  W«'ll,  I  was  as  llrni  as  she  was.  I  told  lier 
that  I  would  see  her  off.  If  she  wished  mi^  to. 
Sh()  told  niu  that  I  would  repent  this  bitterly 
someday.  I  informed  her  that  I  already  ro- 
peiilod  of  my  ants  for  the  last  month  most 
bitterly.  She  burst  into  fresh  tears,  and 
told  me  I  oould  not  have  thu  heart  to  leave 


her.    I  told  her  that   I   must,  unless  she  left 
Malagrida. 

"Well,  the  next  day  it  was  all  over.  1  saw 
Malagrida  put  on  board  the  r^leainer,  which 
was  to  go  down  tlie  Uliin(>,  and  thun  gave  my 
wife  a  lust  chance.  I  stood  on  tlie  ipiay.  I 
asked  her  if  she  would  leave  me  for  Malagrida. 
iShc  said  nothing,  but  wept.  The  bell  sounded. 
Hlie  gavii  me  a  hui  ricil  liiss,  and  tied  en  board. 
The  last  I  saw  of  licr,  she  was  seated  on  Mal- 
agrida, her  eyes  streaming  witli  tears,  waving 
a  8a<l  farewell  to  inc." 
"  Well."  .sahl  McGiiily,  "  is  that's  all?" 
"Yes,"  said  ('ary,  tilling  his  pipe,  whioh  had 
gone  out.  "  One  thing  nnu'c  I  did.  I  Icnew  her 
adtli'ess;  so  I  sent  lier,  not  long  afterwards,  a 
notice  of  the  death  of  Timothy  Caiy,  Esip,  and 
forwarded  to  lier  a  coflln  containing  lii.<i  re- 
mains. Slu>  seemed  so  fond  of  corpses,  that  I 
thought  I'd  indulge  her  faiu-y.  I  dare  say  she 
gave  me  a  liandsoine  burial.  Or,  peiiiaps,  shu 
married  a.i:ain,  and  went  off  on  her  iioiii-ymooD 
with  both  of  her  former  spouses." 


niAPTRR  VI. 

Lirrj^R  KOSHTTE  AMONG THK  miLISTINES. 

Iliitlifr  riMigli  on  RohIk  Muh  Ih; 
Oiiu  sho  live  with  su<ih  a  Missis? 

TiiK  pn^vious  (!liapters  eontaui  a  siittloient 
explanation  of  the  position  of  little  Rosette. 
It  was  with  some  apprehetision  that  she  enter- 
eil  upon  her  iitMv  lif(>.  Uiuler  tlituidvieeof  tlie 
ex|ierienced  (^ary  and  tho  sagiK'ious  McGinly, 
sli<>  arrayed  herself  for  her  new  vocation;  a 
short  dress,  an  apron,  a  cap,  under  which  her 
hair  was  done  nj)  very  prettily,  and  a  small 
bundle— simh  were  her  pr<>paralions  for  tho  re- 
sponsible post  of  lady's  maid  to  'Arrief.  Me- 
(iiinty  liad  done  his  work,  and  no  ililTleulties 
had  been  inel  with.  And  thus  it  was  that  Me.- 
(linty's  promise  was  fulfllled,  and  on  the  day 
rollowing  lit  tie  Rosette  found  herself  among 
th(!  Pattersons,  wailing  in  the  ante-ohamlier  of 
their  loilgings. 

It  was  Mamma  Patterson  who  first  onme  to 
see  the  new  malil. 

Littli>  Rosette  stole  one  timid  look  at  her, 
ami  then  lowered  her  eyes  modestly  to  the 
floor. 


26 


THE  BABES  IN  THE  WOOD. 


Mamma  Patterson  seated  herself  in  wlmt 
'"OS  raeiint  to  1)e  a  dignified  attitude,  niul  tlien 
surveyed  the  little  maid  for  somo  time,  very 
leisurely  and  in  silence. 

"I've  ben  requested,"  said  Mnmina  Paltoi'- 
Bou,  "  to  talfo  you  as  maid  to  my  diirti  r,  iin"  I 
'ope  you'll  try  an'  mind  your  missusses,  re- 
member your  plaee,  an'  try  an'  do  your  'uni- 
ble  dooty  in  tlie  station  of  life  in  wliieli  you 
ire  sitooated." 

■' Yes'm,"  said  little  Rosette,  meekly. 

"No', ,  in  the  fust  i)laee,"  eontinued  the 
mamt  la,  "tlieru's  somo  things  that  mu«t  lie 
understood,  fust  an'  foremost ;  an'  I  won't 
Stand  any  nonsense  on  tliis  pint.  Now  I  want 
to  know  one  thing.  'Ave  you  got  any  follow- 
ers?" 

Little  Rosette  loolfed  up  with  a  qu(!stionin^ 
glanee,  and  repeated : 

"Followers?" 

"Yes;  sparks,  you  know." 

"Sparks?"  said  litilo  Rosette,  witli  a  puzzled 
face. 

"Well,  fellers,  then— you  know." 

"I'm  sun-,  I  don't  know  what  you  mi^an," 
said  little  Rosette;  "  and  I'm  very  sorry." 

Mamma  Patterson's  face  UusIkm]. 

"Oh,  yes,  you  do,  you  artful  puss;  I  know 
it." 

"Slie's  awfully  rude,"  thoughtlittle Rosette; 
"but  I  must  try  to  be  very  polite,  indeed, 
and  perhaps  she  mayn't  be  quite  so  cross."  So 
with  this  tliought  in  her  mind,  little  Rosette 
put  her  hands  behind  her,  like  a  child  saying  a 
lesson,  and  then  looked  at  Mamma  Patterson, 
her  great,  dark,  soft  eyes  resting  dreamily 
upon  her,  with  their  long,  dark  eyelaalies 
sweeping  her  rounded  cheeks.  At  which  the 
old  lady  frowned,  and  lier  expression  grew 
more  and  more  sour,  as  though  she  felt  dissat- 
isfied with  so  sweet  a  faee;  while  she  regarded 
her  with  a  truculent  glance— and  little  Rosette 
said,  in  a  tone  of  courtesy  that  was  really  ex- 
quisite: 

"I  must  thank  you  very  mucli,  indeed,  my 
dear  Mrs.  Patterson,  for  being  so  good  natined 
as  to  allow  me  to  come  here.  I  do  not  really 
know  much— that  is  not  very  much,  you 
know,  about— about  things,  you  know— but 
I  hope  you  will  try  to  make  every  allow- 
ano&— and  I'm  sure  I  shall    try  very  hard 


indeed— and  one  cannot  say  more  than  that, 
you  know."' 

Little  Rosette  concluded  her  speech  with  a 
very  pretty  smile,  that  was  meant  to  be  con- 
<'iliatory,  and  tlien  awaited  an  answer.  But 
sometliing  in  that  faee  and  voice  seemed  to 
have  jurred  very  unpleacantly  on  Mrs.  Patter- 
son, for  she  sat  in  silence,  glaring  at  her  with 
a  glance  that  was  more  unpiopilious  than 
ever. 

"Highty  tightyl  high  and  mighty!"  ex- 
elaimed  the  old  lady,  at  lengtli.  "Here's  a 
queer  go,  tool  What  may  you  'appen  to  call 
yourself,  pray  ?  Is  this  the  fashion  tliat  you've 
larned  of  talkin'  to  your  missuses  and  I)etter8 
—like  horned  ladies,  an' free  an'  ekal?  Is  this 
tlio  fashion  on  tlieContinink?  Why,  youmigbt 
as  well  be  one  of  tlie  Red  Republicans." 

Tliis  allusion  to  the  Red  Republicans  startled 
little  Rosette,  for  slie  knew  that  her  present 
situation  was  in  some  way  owing  to  them — 
and  was  af  aid  of  discovering  her  secret. 

"Oil,  if  you  please,  don't,"  she  said,  with  a 
gesture  of  alarm,  and  a  hurried  look  around 
her.  This,  however,  the  old  lady  didn't  notice, 
Idit  went  on  witli  lier  own  ide;i. 

"  Now  look  liere,  you  Miss  R()sett<',  I  want  to 
tell  you  one  tiling.  I  don't  like  your  style— I 
don't  like  them  fandangos  an'  (al-lals— I  don't 
lik(;  lady's  ujaiils  a-tiirkin'  of  theirselves  up 
like  coquettes.  You're  rigged  up  to  the  nines, 
an'  you  make  too  mucli  play  with  them  eyes  o' 
yoiir'n." 

"Do  I?"  said  Rosette.  "I'm  very  sorry,  I'm 
sure;"  and  she  looked  meekly  at  tlie  floor,  the 
long  lashes  fringing  lier  lids  and  giving  her  a 
new  charm,  which  was  still  more  offensive  to 
Mrs.  Patterson. 

"  Fust,  I  .say,"  tlie  mamma  went  on,  "  fust  of 
all,  you've  got  to  change  that  nam(>.  I  don't 
want  no  Rosettes al)out  this  hou.se.  You'll  have 
to  take  a  plain  lionest  name— SusaTi— or  sech." 

"  Susan  t"  said  little  Rosette.  "Oli,  if  you 
please,  I'd  very  much  rather  not.  Susan  is  so 
very,  very  horrid." 

"Horrid,  is  it?"  snarled  the  mamma.  "Horrid 
—highty  tlghty.  Miss  Flighty— not  good  enough 
for  Your  Royal  'Ighnessl  Well,  ail  I  can  say 
is,  beggars  mustn't  be  choosers — an'  there's 
better  women  named  Susan  than  you'll  ever 
be,  beiu'  as  my  own  sainted  mother,  as  is  dead 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


27 


^ 


and  soii(>,  boro  llmt  niimo,  luul  was  buried  un- 
der it,  wliicli  it's  tfii  liiiica  botti'i'u  you  de- 
serve to  'live,  you  iuipertiuent  young  liuzzy, 
you!" 

"  How  slioeUiniily  inde  slie  is,"  tliouglit  little 
Rosetle.  'Till  afraid  tliiit  I  sliiill  Uiid  it  very 
liiird  to  ^row  aeeustomtMl  to  lier — and  one 
can't  stand  lieing  scolded  always;  and  she 
wu)i't  lie  pleased  with  anytliing." 

"Tlieu,  agaiu,"  resumed  the  old  lady, 
"  thai 's  another  tiling— what  d'yo  eall  that 
thing  on  your  head?  Take  it  off.  I  don't  want 
it.  I  won't  liave  you  a-trickin'  up  like  u  co- 
quette." 

"  I'm  sure  I'm  very  sorry,"  said  Rosette.  "I 
thought  you  would  prefer  a  cap,  but  one 
hardly  knows  how  one  ought  to  di'ess  when 
one " 

She  removed  her  eap  without  linisliing  her 
seutenee,  and  tlien  there  was  disclosed  a  rip- 
pling, crisp,  curling  mass  of  dark  luxuriant 
liair,  tliat  made  her  quite  enchanting;  wiiile 
old  Mis.  P.  sat  staring  at  her  in  utter  disgust. 

"Well,  young  woman,  there's  one  thing 
you'll  iiave  lo  do,  I  plainly  see,  if  you  stay  here. 
You'll  have  to  cut  off  them  curls." 

"  Cut  off  my  hair!"  said  Rosette,  aghast. 

"Yes— all  of  it— every  mile;  siiinglo  your 
head  close  as  a  soger's— otlierwise  you  ain't 
goiu'  to  sliiy  Willi  inc.    Mind  that,  miss." 

"  But  I'd  very  much  rather  not  do  tliat,"  said 
Rosette;  "that  is,"  slic  added,  in  her  usual 
polite  way,  "that  Is,  if  you  don't  very  muvli 
mind  it,  you  know." 

"But  I  do  mind  it  very  mucli,  indeed,  and 
you  know  it." 

"I  think,"  suggested  Rosette,  in  a  concilia- 
tory tone,  "  that  if  I  wore  a  very  large  cap, 
indeed  I  might  manage  to  hide  it  all." 

"  A  lai'ge  cap— no  you  don't !  I  twig!  More 
fal  lals!  That's  all  you  want.  You  don'tcome 
them  games  over  me,  young  woman." 

"  But  I'd  80  very  much  rather  not,"  objected 
Rosette. 

"  Well,  then,  you  shall,  and  you  must.  Who 
cares  for  you?" 

"But  how  can  I,  when  poor  papa  is  away; 
and  might  be  very  angry,  Indeed,  if  he  were  to 
know  about  it,  you  know." 

At  tills  Mrs.  Patterson  threw  up  her  eyes. 

"Hear  her  I    Listen  to  her  I    Her  papa!    Her 


— jm-pa!    And   who  is  your  papa?— and  who 
do  you  suppose  cares  a  pin  for  him?" 

"lie's  a  very  nice  man,"  said  Rosette,  "a 
very  nice  man,  indeed.  And  he  loves  me  very 
dearly." 

"  Well,  all  I  can  say  is,  it's  a  pity  he  didn't 
have  you  lirought  up  in  a  way  more  sooled  to 
your  station  in  life  an'  footer  iirospt'cts.  Bet- 
tei-  for  you,  miss,  if  he'd  made  you  cut  it  all 
off  long  iigo." 

"I'm  sure  I'm  veiy  soiry,"  g..id  Rosette; 
"but  I  can't   help  il." 

"You  can  help  It." 

"I  do  wish  she  wouldn't  contradict  one  SO 
rudely,"  tliought  Rosette,  and  then  she  tried 
very  hard  to  tliink  of  something  ooneiliatory. 

The  mamma  returned  to  the  charge. 

"Tlieu  there's  another  pint.  Them  eyes  o' 
yourn— I  don't  like  'em.  You  roll  'em  about 
too  much." 

"  Oil,  Well,"  said  Rosette,  with  a  smile  of  can- 
dor, "I  can't  do  anything  then,  for  one  can't 
go  and  cut  one's  eyes  out,  yon  know." 

At  this  the  old  lady  grew  more  wnithful 
still. 

"See  here,  now.  Miss  Flighty,"  she  said, 
sliari)ly.  "You  and  me's  got  to  understand 
one  another.  I'm  a  plain  woman,  I  am;  an'  I 
alius  speak  plain.  There's  too  many  gentle- 
men a-comin'  an'  a-goin'  in  this  'ouse,  an' 
you've  been  a  triekin'  of  yourself  out  to  at- 
traek  their  attention.  You're  a  born  coquette, 
tliat's  wliat  you  air,  and  them  I  can't  a-bear. 
Now,  I  give  you  warnin' — don't  you  be  givin' 
of  yourself  airs.  Don't  let  them  gentlemen 
have  too  much  to  sny  to  you.  Above  all, 
there's  my  man,  Billy— don't  you  go  an'  let 
him  come  foolin'  around  you.  He's  an  old 
fool,  an'  I  don't  like  to  have  the  likes  of  you 
in  the  'ouse  when  he's  round." 

While  Mrs.  P.  was  thus  expressing  herself. 
Rosette  was  thinking  that  she  was  vet  y  par- 
ticularly unpleasant,  as  well  as  vulgar,  and 
wondered  what  her  papa  would  ever  think  il 
he  only  know  what  sort  of  a  person  this 
woman  was.  How  excessively  rude  she  Is  to 
me— she  thought— and  I  don't  quite  see  howl 
can  ever  become  accustomed  to  her,  and  I  do 
wish  she  would  not  contradict  one  so. 

"  Mrs.  Patterson,"  said  Rosette,  with  some 
dignity,  yet  witti  that  sweet  air  of  courtesy 


28 


THE  BABES  IN  TUE   WOOD. 


wliich  never  failed  ber,  "lum  sure  you  would 
Dot  have  said  all  tbat  if  you  hud  kuown  liow 
Teiy  particularly  unpleasant  it  is  to  lue." 

"  Yes,  I  would,"  said  the  old  lady,  rudely, 
'•  and  I  dou*t  believe  it's  unpleasant  a  bit." 

"  It's  very  particularly  unpleasant,"  said 
Rosette. 

"It  iiin't,"  said  Mrs.  Patterson.  "You  like 
it— you  know  you  do." 

'•  I  particularly  dislike  11,"  said  Rosette. 

"  You  don't,"  said  Mrs.  Patterson.  "Besides, 
1  don't  eare  whether  you  like  it  or  not.  Who 
lire  you.  Wlio  cares  for  yon?  You're  only  a 
servant,  xeould  l)uy  up  a  thousand  servants, 
all  Ixitter'u  you." 

What  Is  one  to  do?  thought  Rosette.  She 
is  certainly  a  very  vulgai'  per.son— I  think  quite 
tbevulgarest  I  ever  saw.  I  really  think  sbe 
must  be  almost,  if  not  quite,  insane.  I  wonder 
if  they're  all  like  her,  and  if  there  may  not  be 
one  who  may  be  the  least  little  bit  like  a  lady. 
I  never  was  so  rudely  treated  in  all  my  life 

"  An'  mark  my  words,  miss,"  continued  Mrs. 
Patterson,  "no  foolin'— no  ecxiueltin'  — no 
pbilanderiu'  —  no  cuttiu'  up  Didos  iu  this 
house— no " 

But  nt  this  point  Mrs,  P.'s  tirade  was  cut 
short.    The  door  opened.    It  was  'Arriet." 

The  mamma  retreated,  and  'Arriet  seated 
herself  on  the  vacated  throne,  looking  at  Ro- 
sette with  sometliingof  the  same  sorutiny  and 
a  little  of  the  same  expression  which  the  mam- 
ma had  sliown.  Rosette,  on  the  other  hand, 
remained  standing  iu  her  former  meek  and 
quiet  attitude,  wondering  to  herself  whether 
this  one  would  be  as  rude  as  tlie  other. 

"What  is  your  name?"  asked  'Arriet,  iu  a 
cold,  distant  manne" 

"  Rosette." 

"Rosette  what?" 

"Rosette — Pinch,"  said  the  other,  with  an 
effort.  It  was  hard  to  deny  her  own  real  name 
— and  she  thought  to  herself,  also,  that  it  was 
a  sort  of  lie,  which  was  wicked. 

"Very  good,"  continued  'Arriet,  in  a  busi- 
ness-like way.  "You  have  been  recommended 
by  Mr.  Sraithers.  You  are  to  be  my  maiil. 
Mr.  Smithers  said  that  you  had  not  lived  out." 

"  Well,  not  very  much." 

"  Have  you  ever  lived  out  at  nil  ?" 

"Well,  n— no,"  stammered   poor  Rosette, 


fearing  that  this  admission  might  damage  ber; 
"  but  I'm  sure  I  couldn't  help  it." 

"  Xo  matter.  Mr.  Smithers  spoke  very  fa- 
vorably of  you,  and  I  hope  you'll  piove  to  bo 
all  that  be  premised.  1  daresay  you'll  suit  me 
very  well.  Be  honest,  be  obedieut,  be  modest, 
he  truthful— that's  enough  for  me.  Any  littlo 
awkwardness  I  will  overlook  with  pleasure. 
And  now,  what  persuasion  are  you 7" 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Rosette. 

"  What  persuasion — religion,  you  know?" 

"Oh— why— tlie  Christian,'*  stammered  Ro- 
sette.   "Protestant,  you  know." 

"Oh,  yes;  but  what  denomination  among 
the  Protestants?" 

"Oh,  well,  I  don't  belong  to  any  denouiino- 
lion,  you  know,"  said  Rosette,  briskly.  "1  be- 
long to  tlie  Church,  you  know." 

"  Ah— h— in— well— we  don't.  I  merely  wished 
to  know.  I'm  glad  you  belong  to  even  that — 
all— body,  and  hope  you  feel  the  great  respon- 
sibility that  attaches  to  yr>ii  as  a  church  mem- 
l)er." 

Iiistiucti  vely  Rosette's  little  hands  sought  one 
another  behind  lier  back,  and  the  old  school- 
girl feeling  came  over  her.  She's  catechizing 
me,  thouglit  Rosette;  and.  In  a  kind  of  panic, 
her  mind  reviewed  all  her  old  religious  instruo- 
tions. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  said,  sweetly,  "lean  say  it  yet, 
pretty  well— tliough  not  very— at  least  not  so 
well  as  I  might  wish ;"  and  she  stood  as  though 
expecting  every  moment  to  be  asked,  "What 
is  your  name?"  "rehearse  the  articles  of  thy 
belief,"  or  "  whicli  be  they?"  But  no  question 
came;  and  little  Rosette  felt,  on  the  whole,  de- 
cidedly relieved.  'Arriet  sat  looking  at  her  cu- 
riously for  some  time,  and  at  length  said,  with 
some  abruptness: 

"  You're  too  pretty." 

Oh,  there  it  comes,  thought  poor  Rosette. 
She's  beginning,  and  what  can  one  do?  She 
did  not  know  what  to  say,  so  she  took  refuge 
iu  a  glittering  generality. 

"  Yes,  please." 

"  I  hope,"  continued  'Arriet,  in  a  lofty  tone, 
"  that  you'll  try  to  be  very  quiet  and  modest; 
that  you'll  avoid  every  thing  like  airs,  or  im- 
pertinences, or  impudence;  and  that  you'll  be 
respectful  to  your  betters.  It's  my  opinion 
that  you  are  vain  and  light-headed.    It's  a 


k 


ty 


! 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


29 


1 


Ri-eat  snnre.  Beware  of  thid.  Figlit  agiiiu^t  it 
as  a  besetting  sin.  Don't  dress  so  smartly. 
That's  another  snare.  And  above  all,  ue  on 
your  guard  always  against  the  gentlemen  that 
may  l)e  coming  and  going.  Don't  let  any  one  of 
them  say  one  single  word  to  you;  and  if  they 
do,  be  sure  not  to  answer  them  at  all.'' 

This  last  seemed  to  Rosette  to  be  quite  absurd, 
and  Inrolviiig  incivility,  discourtesy,  and  even 
rudeness.  To  be  silent  when  spoken  to  was 
out  of  the  question.  Common  politeness  would 
make  one  rei)Iy  to  a  remark.  This  seemed  self 
evident. 

"Oh.  well,  you  know,"  said  Rosette,  "I  sup- 
pose if  any  of  them  ask  after  you,  for  instance, 
I  may  answer  them,  you  know." 

"  Oh,  you  know  perfectly  well  what  I  mean," 
said  'Arriet,  sharply.  "I  mean  that  you  must 
not  allow  yourself  to  indulge  In  any  of  those 
small  coq\ietrle3  to  which  I  fear  you  are 
altogether  too  much  inclined.  Remember,  that 
I  shall  be  watching  you,  and  that  I  have  sharp 
eyes.    You'll  not  be  able  to  deceive  me." 

"Yes,  please,"  said  Rosette,  "I  yhall  remem- 
ber, I'm  sure  j"  and  I  really  do  believe— she 
thought  to  herself— I  really  do  think  that  she 
Is  almost,  if  not  quite,  as  disagreeable  as  her 
mamma.  And  if  she  is  how  dreadful  it  will  be. 
But,  perhaps— she  reflected,  rising  into  a  more 
sanguine  mood— they  may  all  turn  out  to  l)t^ 
nicer  when  we  all  get  better  acquainted  with 
one  another. 

As  for  'Arriet,  she  felt  decidedly  puzzled. 
She  had  noted  at  once  in  Rosette  a  certain 
grace  of  bearing,  and  refinement  of  accent 
which  she  had  never  before  seen  in  any  lady's 
maid.  She  saw  in  her  a  certain  nameless  some- 
thing which  may  be  called  "style  "  in  default 
of  abetter  name — a  high-bred  air  about  her 
face,  about  the  poise  of  her  head,  her  attitude. 
In  short,  everything;  and  how  to  account  for 
this  she  did  not  know.  She  concluded,  how- 
ever, that  Rosette  may  have  lived  a  good  deal 
among  ladies,  and  caught  their  ways.  Besides, 
she  remembered  having  heard  that  on  the 
Continent,  servants  and  mistresses  associate  on 
more  equal  terms  than  in  England,  and  sup- 
posed that  this  might  In  part  account  for  the 
puzzle. 

After  some  further  remarks  she  took  Rosette 
off  to  explain  her  duties,  during  whloh  expla- 


nation Rosette  felt  like  the  little  maid  In  the 
story  of  the  Three  Spinners,  when  the  Queen 
takes  her  to  the  room  full  of  flax;  but,  alas! 
here  there  were  no  friendly  fairies  to  inter- 
pose. 

For  the  perilous  nature  of  Rosette's  under- 
taking will  be  fully  appreciated,  when  it  Is  ex- 
plained that  the  only  ])reparatlon  which  she 
had  ever  had  for  these  complicated  duties,  and 
the  on^y  experience  in  them  which  slie  bad 
ever  known,  consisted  solely  in  the  services 
which,  in  former  years,  she  had  rendered  to 
certain  dolls  of  various  names  and  sizes,  which, 
from  time  to  time,  she  liad  adopted  as  liercom- 
I)anions,  These  she  had  served  very  faithfully. 
She  had  done  up  their  hair;  dressed  and  un- 
dressed them;  made  their  beds;  washed  their 
iloll-clothes,  ill  doli  wash-lubs,  with  doll  soap; 
ironed  them  with  doll  irons;  read  to  them  in 
doll  books;  nursed  them  when  ill,  and  doctor^ 
ed  them  with  doll  medicine;  put  them  in  doll 
baths,  and  accompanied  them  on  their  travels 
in  doll  carriages.  But  varied  and  Important 
as  this  training  may  have  been,  it  was  hardly 
adequate  to  prepare  her  for  her  present  posi- 
tion,and  its  multifarious  duties;  Mamma  Pat- 
terson and  'Arriet  were  by  no  means  so  ami- 
able as  those  old  companions,  and  before  one 
day  had  passed  poor  little  Rosette  found  her- 
self comparing  ber  present  with  her  former 
duties,  to  the  great  disadvantage  of  the 
present. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

OLD  FRIENDS— A  RAPTCROtTS  MEETIXO— ASSOCIA- 
TIONS AND  REMINISCENCES  OP  THE  PAST. 

Mercy  on  us !  here's  Rosette. 

How  you've  grown  since  last  we  met  I 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  fvlouingday  every 
one  was  out,  and  Rosette,  in  pensive  mood, 
was  in  the  ante-chamber,  at  her  wit's  end  about 
some  household  duty  enjoined  upon  her  by 
'Arriet.  Of  this  household  duty  she  simply 
knew  nothing  whatever,  and  felt  more  than 
ever  like  the  little  maid  already  mentioned  In 
the  room  full  of  flax.  At  this  juncture  there 
came  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  Rosette  went  to 
open  It. 

It  was  Mr.  Fred  Fotherby,  who  had  oome  to 
oall  upon  the  ladies.    He  had  just  opened  bis 


J 


30 


THE  BABES  IN  THE  WOOD. 


mouth  to  ask  the  words,  "Are  any  of  the  la- 
dies nt  home?"  when  the  words  were  suddenly 
arrested  by  sonietbiug  in  the  appearance  of 
the  lit  tie  maid  before  him.  She  also  had  taken 
a  hurried  glance  at  the  new  comer,  when 
something  in  lilm  made  her  take  a  second.  At 
that  second  their  eyes  met;  there  was  an  in- 
stant of  mutual  inquiry;  then  bewilderment; 
then  amazed  and  astonished  recognition. 

"By  Jove!"  cried  Fred. 

"  Why,  Freddie!"  exclaimed  Rosette. 

"Rosie!"  cried  Fred.  "It  can't  be.  You, 
Itosie!  Why,  what  in  Heaven's  name!— why, 
you  darling  little  pet !  I'm  awfully  }j;lad  to  Me 
you,  Rosie,"  and  with  these  words  Fred  caught 
Rosette  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her. 

"  I'm  awfully  glad  to  see  you,  Rosie,"  said 
he  onoe  more. 

"  And  I'm  sure  I'm  awfullier  glad  to  see  you, 
Freddie,  you  dear,  darling  old  boy,"  said  little 
Rosette,  wliose  eyes  were  swimniiug  witli  tears, 
but  wliose  face  was  glowing  with  joy. 

Fred  stood  off,  holding  her  witli  one  hand  on 
her  shoulder,  and  sui-veyed  lier  from  head  to 
foot  in  fresh  amazement. 

"Why,  what  in  the  world's  the  matter?"  he 
asked.  "What  have  you  been  doing  with 
yourself?  Wliat's  all  this  rig— this  cap  and 
apron?    It  can't  be  a  joke  or  a  masquerade?" 

"  Indeed,  I  only  wish  it  was,"  said  Rosette. 

"But  what  are  you  doing  liere?'' 

"  Oh,  why,  you  know,  I'm  lady's  maid." 

"Lady's  maid!"  gasped  Fred. 

"Yes — to  Miss  Patterson." 

"  Lady's  maid  to  Miss  Patterson !  The  devil ! 
Why,  what  do  you  mean  ?  But  I'll  be  hanged 
if  you  don't  look  prettier  tlian  ever.  Why, 
Rosie,  do  you  know  thai  cap  is  awfully  becom- 
ing to  you?" 

And  at  this  Fred  made  a  movement  to  kiss 
her  again,  but  little  Rosette  retreated,  holding 
up  her  band. 

'•  Iiusli-8-hI    Oil,  please  don't,  Freddie." 

"Well,  but  how  did  you  get  here?"  asked 
Fred,  full  of  curiosity. 

"Oh,  why,  you  know,  it's  all  some  business 
of  poor  i)apa.    It's  somedifQculty." 

"What?  not  money?" 

"Oh,  no,  not  money,  but  with  the  police — 
politics,  you  know ;  buts-s-s-s-b  I  for  it's  a  great 
secret,"  aud  Rosette  put  her  hand  over  her 


ruby  lips,  aud  looked  with  solemn,  mysterious 
warning  out  of  her  great  darlc  eyes. 

"  But  tell  me,"  said  Fred,  (.'oaxingly. 

"  Oh!  no,  no,— I  mustn't,"  said  Rosette,  sbak- 
ing  her  head. 

"  But  me." 

"Oh  I  no,  no,  Freddie,  dear,  not  even  you— 
not  a  single  soul.    Its  dangerous." 

"Nonsense." 

"  Oh!  but  it  is.  Papa  had  to  run  away.  So 
had  I.    I'm  hiding." 

At  this  Rolette  gave  a  look  of  awful  mys- 
tery. 

"  Hiding!"  exclaimed  Fred. 

"Yes,  that's  the  leason  why  I'm  lady's 
maid.  And  I've  had  to  clianse  my  name.  My 
name  now  is  Rosette  Fincii." 

"Finch!  Ye  gods  and  little  fishes,"  cried 
Fred. 

"  And  so  don't  you  go  and  let  anybody  ever 
know  that  you  know  me,  you  know,  or  else  the 
police  miglit  hear,  and  if  they  did  they'd  ar- 
rest me  at  once." 

Fred  stood  looking  at  her,  full  of  surprise, 
sympathy,  and  admiration. 

"  Well,  I'll  be  hanged!"  he  exclaimed. 

"  I'm  sure  there's  ten  times  more  danger  of 
my  beitig  hanged,"  said  Rosette,  "if  you  don't 
promise  never  to  speak  to  mo  again,  md  not 
let  any  body  know  about  me." 

"  I  swear,  Rosie,  I  really  do  think  that  you 
aio  the  prettiest,  the  very  loveliest  little  thing 
that  I  ever  saw,"  cried  Fre<l— "why,  what's 
the  matter?  It  tnust  bo  the  cap  and  apron,  of 
course— that's  it,  by  Jove!" 

"Am  I,  though?"  said  Rosette,  joyously; 
"  well,  I'm  awfully  glad  that  you're  here, 
Freddie.  They're  all  out,  and  we  can  hiive  a 
nice  long  talk.  But  how  did  you  happen  to 
come  here.  You  couldn't  have  known  any- 
tliiug  about  my  lieing  here." 

"You?  Oil!  no,"  said  Fred.  "I  bad  no 
more  idea  of  your  being  here  tlian  the  nian  in 
tlie  moon;  why,  I  heard  that  you  had  gone  to 
Germany." 

"  Well,  so  we  did,  but  we  only  remained 
there  a  little  while,  and  then  came  back  here 
again." 

"And  I  haven't  seen  you  for  two  years, 
Rosie,"  said  Fred,  in  a  regretful  tone. 

"And,  oh!  Freddie,  this   is    so  jolly,  you 


'% 


■  m 


age 


M^ 


"•'H'^mn* 


iHtok.1 


THK  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


SI 


know,"  siiiil  Rosette,  overjoyed  to  have  uu  old 
friend  near  her. 

•'  I  don't  think  you've  grown  very  much 
larger;  but  you've  grown  prettier,  somehow — 
though  how  you  could  grow  prettier  I  don't 
know.  Don't  j'ou  kuow  liow  I  used  to  coi)y 
your  face,  Rosie— always  your  largo  eyes— 
the  piii)il  always  under  ths  upper  eye-lid,  and 
the  line  of  white  below  it— then  the  long,  long 
black  eye  lashes  fringing  the  lower  eye-lid,  and 
the  delicate  little  nose,  and  the  perfect  bow- 
shnped  lips— the  corners  generally  a  little 
down,  except  when  you  were  smiling — and 
then  what  a  work  I  had  with  the  hair " 

"Oh!  you  great,  old,  foolish,  nonsensical 
boy,  I  do  wish  you  wouldn't.  1  have  every  one 
of  those  old  pictures — I  never  lost  one.  I'm 
sure  I  don't  think  they  look  very  much  like 
my  idea  of  how  I  look  —  .a  dreamy-looking 
cliild,  with  enormous  eyes,  enormous  eye- 
lashes, and  awfully  sad  face,  and  awfully  long 
and  waving  hair— and  you  call  tliat  lue.  But 
come,  Freddie,  what  are  you  doing  here?  How 
did  you  get  here?  Tell  mo  something  about 
yourself" 

"Oh!  why,  you  know  I  came  oulierowitii 
tlu'se  people." 

"You  came  on  here  witli  these  people,"  re- 
peated Rosette.     "Which  jjeople?" 

"Why,  the  Pattersons." 

"Why.  wliat  in  the  world  ever  induced  you 
to  have  anything  to  do  with  such  people  as 
these?'' 

Fred,  at  tliis,  looked  a  little  confused. 

"Oh,  well,  you  see,  Rosie."  he  replied.  "I've 
been  a  bad  hoy  entirely,  and  Imve  been  spend- 
ing all  tny  money,  and  going  into  debt  no  end. 
head  over  heels,  used  up,  going  to  ruin,  and  all 
that,  you  know;  and  so  I  concluded  at  last 
tliat  my  only  hope  was  to  get  hold  of  a  rich 
wife." 

"  A  rich  wife!"  said  Rosette.  "  Why,  what 
an  idea  for  you!  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you 
are  tliinking  of  getting  married?  How  very 
funny,  Pieddie!" 

"I  know  it  is,"  said  Fred;  "but  then,  yon 
know,  it's  all  I  can  do  as  things  are.  So  1 
thought  of  Harriet,  Miss  Patterson,  j-ou  know. 
Now,  don't  you  Hdnk,  Rosie,  that  she  really  is 
a  gorgeous  creature?'' 

"  Why,  that's  my  mistress." 


"Mistress!  What  an  idea!  Oh,  1  see.  Con- 
found  this  business  of  yours.  Well,  at  any 
rate,  don't  you  think  she  is  a  most  gorgeous 
creature?"  repeated  Fred;  "all  soul,  you 
know— that's  my  Idea— she  is  a  splendid  flgure 
of  a  woman;  and  tlien,  ns  to  mind,  lutillect, 
l)rain,  all  that;  why,  Id  like  you  to  nunition 
anyljody,  man  or  woman,  tluit  comes  near  her. 
And  then  in  addition  to  all  this,  mind  you, 
Rosie,  she's  as  rich  as  Cicesus— or  her  father  is. 
Oh,  tliat's  the  woman  for  me." 

"  And  I  suppose  she's  juBl—ohl  just  awfully 
fond  of  you,  isn't  she  now,  Freddie?"  said 
Rosette,  with  an  admiring  smile. 

"Oh,  well,  not  so  awfully,"  said  Fred,  who, 
in  spite  of  conscious  merit,  still  felt  like  |>utting 
forth  a  modest  disclaimer  of  little  Rosette's 
lavish  praise;  "hut  it'll  come,  no  doubt.  I 
daresay  she  doesn't  like  to  sliow  it  too  soon, 
you  know." 

"Of  course  not,"  chimed  in  Rosette;  "she 
wouldn't  till  you  tell  her,  you  know.  That's 
always  the  way,  of  course." 

"  Of  course,"  assented  Fred  ;  "  and  then,  you 
know,  I  owe  most  of  my  debts  to  her  father." 

"Owe  your  debts  to  her  fat  her?'' said  Rosette, 
in  astonishment ;  "  but  what  has  that  got  to  do 
with  her  loving  you  ?' 

"Oh,  nottilng  with  lier  loving  me,  little 
goosie;  but  it  has  a  great  deal  to  do  with  my 
getting  her  for  my  wife." 

"  I'm  sure  t  don't  see  how." 

"Oh,  you  know  her  fatlier  is  enormously 
I'ich— a  great  money-lender,  you  know ;  and  I 
owe  him  no  end;  and  if  I  marry  Harriet,  I'll 
be  his  son-in-law,  and,  of  course,  that'll  Ijc  the 
easiest  way  to  pay  off  my  debts,  won't  it?" 

"  Oil,  yes,  of  course ;  but  does  lie  know  ?" 

"  Know  ?  Oil,  yes— I  dare  say— yes,  of  course 
he  does." 

"  And,  of  course,  ho  admires  you— oh,  ever 
so  much!"  said  little  Roselte,  looking  with  all 
licr  own  honest  admiration  at  tlie  liandsome 
young  fellow— an  admiration  whicli  Fred,  the 
conceited  young  dog,  accepted  as  quite  his  due; 
"but  I  say,  Freddie,  it  seems  to  me  that  it  will 
lie  oh,  so  queer,  and  he  will  booh,8ttc/i  a  funny 
papa  for  you  to  liave,  you  know.  Why,  it  win 
be  worse  tlian  my  tieing  lady's  maid ;  for,  after 
all,  this  Isn't  for  life;  but,  if  you  become  his 
son-in-law,  you'll  have  to  love,  honor,  and 


32 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


ob«'y  liiin,  ii:)  long  as  you  live,  you  know.    Au(] 
8o  I  9bouldii't  llUe  to  be  you." 

"  Pooh,  nonst'iist',  gooslf,"  anid  Fred.  "  I 
dou'l  niurry  thepnpa.  He's  only  nn  old  pig. 
I  luairy  the  dauglitiT.    And  that's  differi'Ut." 

"Yes;  how  nice  it  will  be,"  said  Rosette,  in 
an  nbstmcted  tone;  "and  you'll  have  lots  of 
money?" 

"  Yes — and  such  a  great,  noble  creature  for 
my  wife,"  snid  Fied,  eiithusiastieally. 

"Yes,  she's  au'fully  big,"  said  little  Rosette. 
"  I'm  afraid  of  lur,  Freddie." 

"Big?  Nonsense.  Site's  majestic— a  grand 
creature — a  gorgeous  being— a—  But  see  liere, 
Rosle,"  said  Fred,  al)ruptly  changing  the  con- 
versation, "I don't  liite  tills  sort  of  thing  at 
all,  you  know ;  bad  enough  for  yuu  to  I  e  in  a 
scrape,  and  have  to  be  lady's  maid— buf  bang 
it,  these  people,  you  know,  tliey're  not  the 
right  sort  of  thing  at  all  for  one  like  you— the 
two  old  ones  awful  horea,  no  end ;  and  tliat  old 
woman  can  be  brutally  rude  without  knowing 
it.  So  loolc  here,  you  know,  you  must  come 
out  of  tills." 

"Oh,  but  I  can't.    I'm  hiding,  you  know." 

"Nousensel  you  can." 

"  Oh,  but  I  jan't— and  I've  no  other  place  to 
go  to." 

"Place?  Oh,  I'll  find  places,"  said  Fred, 
grandly. 

"Oh,  no;  I  couldn't  think  of  it,  Freddie. 
There's  danger  of  the  police  finding  nie  out.  I 
must  keep  hid  away." 

"Hid?  nousensel  Wlio's  been  stufilng  j-ou 
with  all  that?  Come  with  me  to  the  British 
Ambassador." 

"Oh,  no,  I  mustn't." 

"But  I  can't  stand  it— and  I  won't." 

"Oh,  I  hope  It'll  only  be  for  a  little  time; 
and  papa  will  ouiue  for  me,  you  know,  and 
take  me  away.  I  shall  be  able  to  keep  quiet 
till  I  hear  from  him,  only  ttie  worst  of  it, 
they  will  scold  me  so." 

"  Scold  ?"  cried  Fred,  with  a  frown.  "  Soold  ? 
Who?" 

"  Why,  all  of  them." 

"All?"  cried  Fred,  looking  black.  "All? 
Wbat,  the  old  woman?    She  wouldn't  dare." 

"Yes;  and  I  think  Miss  Patterson  Is,  if  pos- 
sible, worse." 

"  What,  Harriet?   Confound  her  impudence  f 


She  scold  you?  Let  me  tell  you,  Bosie,  1  won't 
stand  it.  That  girl  I  Why,  she  isn't  fit  to 
blnek  your  boots— a  miserable,  low-lived  pill 
maker's  daugliter!  a  narrow-minded,  vulgar, 
stuek-np,  purse-proud—  I'd  wring  her  neck 
for  sixpeiK.'e!" 

"No,  no,  that's  against  the  laws;  you  must 
wait  till  you're  married,  Freddie." 

"I'll " 

"You'd  better  be  careful  how  you  give  way 
to  your  naughty  temper,  Freddie,"  said  Ro- 
sette, wiio  listened  to  this  tirade  with  an  air  of 
intense  enjoyment.  "She  might  lienr  of  it, 
and  you  might  lose  her." 

"Lose  her?  Ob,  no.  Besides,  I  don't  care. 
I've  got  two  strings  to  my  bow.". 

"Two  strings?" 

"  Yes." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  Why,  another  lady." 

"Another lady!"  exclaimed  Rosette,  in  un- 
feigned surprise.  "You  awful  boy!  But  who 
is  she?  What  is  she,  and  where  did  you  find 
her?    Tell  me  all  al)Out  it." 

"  Well,"  said  Fref"  "  she's  an  Italian  Count- 
ess." 

"An  Italian  Countess!" 

"  Yes,  and  a  widow." 

"  A  widow — oh!" 

"  And  she's  as  beautiful  as— as — well,  as  an 
angel— in  fact,  more  so,  much  more,"  said  Fred, 
enthusiastically. 

"A  beautiful  Italian  Countess!  why,  where 
did  you  meet  with  her,  Freddie?' 

"  I'll  tell  you.  It  was  on  the  road,"  and  Fred 
proceeded  to  tell  the  whole  story. 

"How  nice!"  exclaimed  Rosette;  "wliy  she 
must  be  utterly  enchanting." 

"  I  should  rather  think  she  was,"  said  Fred. 

"And  is  she  really  owfully fond  of  you, 
Freddie?"  asked  little  Rosette,  looking  at  Fred 
ui  her  usual  admiring  way. 

"  Oh,  well,  you  know,  Bosie,  it  isn't  so  easy 
to  tell  with  widows,  you  know.  But  she  makes 
no  end  of  a  fuss  about  me— and  between  you 
and  me,  Rosie,  I  don't  mind  saying  that 
I  do  l)eUeve  that  she  really  is  awfully  fund 
of  me;  though  she  doesn't  like  to  show 
it,  of  course  — that  is,  not  too  much," 
and  the  young  puppy  went  on  to  tell 
about    a   good    many    things   on   the   part 


'i 

»  of  Hi 


-   \ 


I 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


33 


of  tilt)  Countess  whlcli  showed  a  tender  Inter- 
fst.  "And,  I  leuUy  llilnk,  Rosie,  she's  the 
most  fttscluntingcreuturel  oversaw — why,  her 
eyes— they  fairly  thrill  through  me;  and  she's 
BoeieKiint!  She's  a  widow— but  she  must  be 
very  young." 

"And  Is  she  rich?" 

"Tremendous." 

"Low  do  you  know?" 

"Oh,  well,  by  evfry tiling.  Her  way  of 
speaking,  for  iiistanco.  She  owns  u  villa  In 
Tuscany,  a  house  in  Naples,  an  estate  near  Vi- 
terbo,  another  somewhere  else;  why,  she  tnnst 
be  a  regular  female  Rothacbildl  She  scatters 
money  like  mad— and  then,  she's  the  most  per- 
fect lady— and  the  most  good-natured,  ami- 
able, warm-bear  ted,  lively  person  I  ever  saw. 
I  toll  you  what,  Rosle,  I'd  ten  times  rather  see 
you  with  her.  than  here;  you'd  be  ten  times 
happier." 

"  Oh,  but  I  don't  speak  Italian." 

"  Oh,  that's  nothing.  She  speaks  enough 
English  to  get  along  with.  Suppose  I  tell  her 
about  you.  I'm  going  to  call  there  soon— to- 
day." 

"Now!"  said  Rosie,  in  a  forlorn  voice. 

"Now! — what,  and  leave  you?"  cried  Fred, 
"and  before  I've  even  began  to  talk  of  a 
thousand  things  that  I  want  to  ask  you  about. 
Why,  I  haven't  seen  you  for  two  years— and 
don't  you  remember  that  the  very  last  time  1 
eawyou  was  when  we  were  out  in  the  boat, 
and  you  Insisted  on  learning  to  row?" 

"Yes,"  cried  Rosette,  eagerly,  "  and  I  caught 
a  crab,  and  1  lost  my  oar." 

"Yes,  and  reached  out  to  try  and  get  it 
again "  cried  Fred,  as  an  eager,  vivid  re- 
membrance came  over  him. 

"Yes,"  interrupted  little  Rosette,  in  the  same 
eager  voice,  "  and  I  reached  too  far,  and  I  fell 
overboard— and  sank  like  a  stone." 

"And  made  me  mad  with  terror,  you  lit  lie 
reprobate,  after  I  consented  to  let  you  have 
the  oars." 

"But,  oh,  Freddie!  you  saved  my  life!"  said 
Rosette,  in  a  tremulous  voice. 

"  Oh,  yes— course — I  had  to  Qsh  you  out,  and 
got  the  greatest  ducking  I  ever  got  in  all  my 
life." 

"  Yes,  you  jumped  overboard,  you  poor  old 
Freddie,  and  went  down  to  the  bottom  after 


me.  And  I  remember  how  I  opened  my  eyesnt 
the  bottom  of  the  boat,  and  saw  you  crying 
like  a  baby  over  me,  you  silly  old  cowardly 
boy,  you." 

"  Well,  goosie,  and  didn't  you  cry,  too,  for  a 
half  an  hour  afterwards?" 

"No,  I  didn't.  It  was  the  r.*ater  in  my  eyes 
and  hair.  Besides,  you  made  me  cry,  because 
you  were  crying  ho  yonrself." 

"Well,  but  you  always  hiive  been  my  own 
little  pet,  haven't  yon,  Rosie?"  said  Fred,  with 
tender  frankness. 

"Certainly,  Freddie,"  said  Rosette,  with  the 
same  frank  and  open  tenderness;  "and  I'venl- 
ways  stood  up  for  you,  and  been  your  friend."' 

"But,  oh!  what  dear,  delightful  old  days; 
those  were  at  Cheltenham!"  said  Fred,  "nt 
your  uncle's,  when  I  was  a  happy  boy  for 
years,  and  you  keeping  me  from  my  studiev 
with  your  teasing." 

"You!  Oh!  oh!  As  If  you  would  ewer  study.*" 

At  this,  they  plunged  together  back  into  that 
bright  past  at  Cheitenhar*- at  the  old  parson*- 
age — when  Fred  L  'd  been  a  pupil,  living  wlthi 
Rosette's  uncle,  with  whom  she  also  was  living. 
A  thousand  bright  memories  were  held  by  both 
In  common— memories  all  golden  as  they  arose 
illuminated  by  the  sunlight  of  a  happy  pasf.. 
They  had  been  together  for  years  in  that  past, 
and  now  met  onoe  more. 

At  length  their  conversation  was  interrupted 
by  the  return  of  the  family,  and  Rosette  had 
only  time  to  say : 

"Now,  Freddie,  yon  mustn't  let  them  know 
that  you  know  me,  because  it's  awfully  im- 
portant for  mo  not  to  be  discovered,  I'm 
incog." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THREE  STRINGS  TO  ONE  BOW— A  TOO  IMPRE:!iSIBT.X 
YOUTH. 
Ficklfl  Freddie,  how  can  you 
To  so  many  lores  be  true? 

Thk  beautiful  Countess  had  continued  her 
association  with  the  Pattersons.  Her  affabil- 
ity filled  the  papa  and  mamma  with  delight, 
but  inspired  'Arriet  with  varied  feelings.  For 
'Arrlet  had  noticed  a  visible  change  in  the  at- 
titude of  Fred  toward  herself  ever  since  the 
appearance  of  the  Countess,  and  oonoluded 


( 


If 


:t 


4 

t5 


84 


TUB  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


that  the  lovely  stranger  had  a  motive  for  her 
condeMoension,  that  motive  beinf;  no  other 
than  the  capture  uf  Frud.  Dulij^lited,  there- 
fore, and  proud  though  'Arriet  might  under 
other  clieiimstanees  liave  been  ot  the  friendly 
advances  of  u  titlid  lady,  it  was  not  in  human 
nature  that  ahe  should  be  pat  lent  at  the  sight 
of  a-oui'u  devoted  lover  being  eulioed  away  by 
a  perfect  stranger,  and  that  too  at  the  very 
time  wlien  he  liad  virtually  declared  himself. 
For  though  tlie  formal  words  liud  not  passed 
between  tlicni,  still  Fred  liad  given  her  to  un- 
derstand pretty  plainly,  by  niontiis  of  assidu- 
ous attention,  wliat  liis  purposes  were;  anil  it 
was  certainly  rather  liard  for  'Arriet  to  see  the 
volatile  young  man  transferring  much  of  his 
allegiance  to  the  Italian  llag. 

The  Countess,  for  the  present,  however,  had 
the  advantage,  and  seemed  determined  to  keep 
it.  It  wri  evidently  tiie  plan  of  this  lady  to 
win  FreU  for  herself.  Her  motive  was  not  at 
all  a  complex  one.  It  was  simply  l)ecause  her 
fancy  prompted  her.  The  lomantii;  meeting, 
on  tlie  mountain  seemed  to  have  impressed 
her  greatly.  Fied  also  was  a  young  fellow 
who,  in  spite  of  his  evident  self-conceit,  was 
very  well  adapted  to  win  the  regards  of  that 
sort  of  woman.  And  so  the  Countess  set  her- 
self to  the  task  of  winning  liim. 

From  the  first,  Fred's  too  susceptible  heart 
had  felt  the  effect  of  her  em.-hantmeuts.  Her 
dark  eyes  bad  sent  electric  flashes  throngli 
him.  Nor  were  little  hints  wanting,  or  words 
to  give  him  encouragement;  and  therefore 
Fred's  boast  to  little  Rosette,  though  an  un- 
warrantable violation  of  a  tender  seciet,  was 
after  all  founded  on  an  actual  fact. 

The  Countess,  however,  was  by  no  means  In- 
clined to  push  her  own  purposes  in  defiance  of 
everybody  else.  "Many  things  are  wily," 
Bays  the  Greek  dramatist,  who  goes  on  to  say 
that  mat!  is  the  wiliest.  To  which  may  be  add- 
ed, '*  except  woman."  Woman's  wiles  were 
possessed  to  the  fullest  degree  by  the  Count- 
ess, and  these  she  brought  to  bear  on  all  her 
friends.  She  saw,  first  of  all,  that  it  would  be 
better  for  her  to  have  'Arriet  for  her  friend 
than  her  enemy;  and  so  long  as  she  could  re- 
tain her  on  a  friendly  footiug,  she  would  have 
a  much  better  chance  of  acting  over  tlie  whole 
field.    In  order,  however,  to  disarm  'Arriet's 


Jealous  suspicions,  it  would  be  uecessaiy  fur 
her  to  furnish  that  injured  young  hidy  with 
some  other  ooeupation  for  her  thougtits.  The 
best  occupation  seemed  to  her  to  be  a  nt!W  cav- 
alier. For  such  she  did  not  have  long  to  wait. 
And  this  is  the  reason  why  the  Countess  intro- 
duced to  the  select  circle  of  tlie  Pattersons  her 
brilliant,  chivalrous  and  gallant  friend  uud 
relative,  the  Count  Filippo  de  Grassato. 

This  was  a  master  stroke  on  the  part  of  the 
Countess.  All  tiie  English  snob  was  roused 
within  4lie  soul  of  'Arriet  at  the  approach  of 
a  live  Count.  This  was  a  very  different  thing 
from  nssoeiatiug  with  a  Countess,  though  that 
had,  indeed,  been  a  dazzling  honor.  But,  in 
tluit  case,  the  Countess  bad  been,  at  tlie  best, 
simply  an  acquaintance— one,  too,  who  as- 
sumed asui>eiiority  wliioh  made  her  often  feel 
ill  at  ease.  In  tliis  other  case,  however,  it  was 
differeut.  It  was  a  Count,  not  a  Countess;  a 
gallant,  not  an  aequulutanee;  a  lover,  not  a 
friend.  The  Count  ploced  himself  altogether 
at  lier  service.  Instead  of  assuming  any  tacit 
superiorily,  liis  assumption  was  nil  the  other 
way.  He  was  not  'Arriet's  superior.  He  was 
her  very  humble  servant.  To  'Arriet,  those 
were  delicious  momeiifs  when  the  Count  picked 
up  her  fan,  or  her  kerchief;  spranc  to  open 
the  door  for  her;  flew  to  hand  her  acliair-- 
those  moments  when  she  had  a  born  nobleman 
waiting  upon  iier  with  the  utmost  deference. 

Moreover,  Grassato  presented  a  marked  con- 
trast to  Fred,  apart  from  his  title.  Fred  had 
never  put  himself  out  particularly.  Fred 
thought  that  an  infinity  of  small  attentions 
was  a  bore,  and  also  a  silly  affectation.  He 
looked  with  infinitecontemptuponaman  who 
devoted  himself  in  that  small  way  to  any  wo- 
man whatever.  The  bows,  scrapes,  smiles,  apol- 
ogies, compliments,  ond  multifarious  atten- 
tions shown  by  Grassato  seemed  to  him  un- 
worthy of  a  man,  and  characteristic  of  a  "  beg- 
garly Italian." 

If  'Arriet  liad  thought  of  using  Gra:>sato  as 
a  means  of  bringing  back  Fred  to  his  duty,  she 
made  a  failure  of  it,  for  Fred  seemed  to  regard 
the  Italian  with  magnificent  indifference.  But 
'Arriet  found  in  the  Count  himself  a  source  of 
joy  altogether  apart  from  the  fact  that  he 
might  be  used  against  Fred ;  and  her  bereaved 
heart  began  to  be  Miot^ed  by  a  feeling  of  sweet 


:t 


THE  BABE8  IN  THE   WOOD. 


95 


(tuiiipliioeiioy,  ud  alie  regarded  Uer  future  Dulf 
ill  the  light  of  u  poMlble  Couutesa. 

Tills  little  Blroke  of  the  Couutes*  dl  Ciirnvro 
hud  thus  been  quite  sucoesiiful.    Shu  hud  dis- 
armed the  jealousy  of  a  rival,  and  rotaiiii'd 
£  that  rival  as  a  frleud.  The  whole  Uuld  thus  lay 
W  open  bufore  her,  and  everything  seemed  to 
,    favor  her  purposes.    Fri'd  himself  seemed  to 
feel  happy  In  llndlng  himself  her  favored  at- 
tendant ;  nor  had  lie,  as  yet,  r.ltogether  over- 
come that  Urst  enthrallment  and  enchantment 
wliioh  site  had  flung  over  him.    Accordingly, 
not  a  day  passed  on  which  Fred  was  not  danc- 
ing attendance  upon  this  beautiful  siren;  wait- 
ing upou  her;   walking  with  her;  lidlng  or 
driving  with  her. 

•    "  Ow  you  lika  Roma?"  asked  the  Countess  of 
iiiiii    one   day,  as  they  walked    through    tht' 
ygidunds  of  the  Villa  norghese. 
J   "Oh,  first  rate,"  said  Fred,   "tip-top!    It's 

'the  jolliest  place  I  ever  saw." 
;•■    "Joli?  oh,  si,  yes — beaiifid,  splendida.    You 
Joy  you  saffa  in  dees  villa?" 
'    "  Awfully,"    said     Fred,     "  never    enjoyed 
inyself   so  much    in    all    my    life  that    I   re- 
nH!mb<T." 

"  Ah  I  you  naffa  joy  yousaffa  so  moocha  een 
plla  you  Ufa.  I  am  glad  at  il.  AVhen  did  yon 
flnd  yousaffa  de  luos  appy  ?" 
^  And  at  this  question  the  Countess  fixed  her 
glorious  dark  eyes  on  Fred,  as  if  to  read  Ills  in- 
||iermost  heart.  Fred's  heart  beat  fast  as  he 
luet  that  gaze. 

*j'   "Don't  you  know?"    he  asked,  in  a  tender 
«^oice. 

%  "I  not   know,"  said  she,  in  a  simple  way. 
"How  can  I?" 
"Shall  1  tell  you  when  I've  been  happiest?" 
"  I  sail  be  so  gratafiilla  to  know." 
"  Well,  since  I  crossed  the  inoiuitains  from 
Spoleto." 

"Ah!"  repeated  the  Countess,  keeping  her 
(deep  glance  fixed  on  him,  "  siuce  you  crossn 
.'de  montagne  from  Spoleto.  An  why  dat  inaka 
Vyoii  appy  tocrossa  de  montagiu'!" 

"Some  one  1  met,''  said  Fred,  with  boyish 
sshyness. 

"  You  inetta?"  hinted  tiieCountess. 
"  A  lady.    Slie  was  a  Countess,"  said   Fred, 
hvith  the  air  of  one  who  was  making  a  very  dls- 
Itaul  hint. 


"  I  do  beleef  dut  was  me,"  said  the  Countess, 
with  sweet  frankness. 

Fred  blushed.  A  good  sort  of  soul  after  all, 
this  Fred— not  altogether  out  of  hobbledehoy- 
hood,  you  see,  siuce  he  could  blush. 

"  Yes,"  said  he, "  I  mean  you,"  aud  he  laughed 
with  Immense  glee. 

"  I  do  beleef,"  said  the  Countess,  again  with 
the  same  charming  frankness,  "dat  you  mean 
to  say  you  appy  wit  me." 

"Of  course  I  do,"  said  Fred,  with  a  raptur- 
ous laugh.    "  It's  splendid!" 

"Wit  me?"  said  the  Countess,  archly. 

"Of  course,"  said  Fred,  "you,  of  course." 

"Alia!  now  you  flatta.  You  moos  mean  de 
Arrielta!" 

"Harriet— pooh!" 

"Ma— why  iionf?" 

"  Harriet— wliy  she's  not  to  be  named  on  the 
same  day  with  you." 

"Why  not?"  naked  tl»e  Countess,  who  pre- 
ferred direct  statements,  apparently,  to  Indi- 
rect. 

"She's  not  so  beautiful.  You're  awfully 
pretty,  you  know." 

"  Mi— ofully  prelta.    Dut  is  more  flattera!" 

"  You'ie  tlie  most  lovely— the  most  beauti- 
ful woman  that  I  ever  saw,"  said  Fred. 
'  "Aha!  you  not  ineanl"  said  the  Countess, 
holding  Fred  enchained  with  her  deep  dark 
gliince,  and  smiling  bewitchingly  one  of  her 
glorious  smiles. 

"I  think  you  are  more  beautiful  than  any 
angel,"  said  Fred. 

Tlie  Countess  gave  a  low  sigh.  She  was  evi- 
dently gratillcd,  though  this  sort  of  thing  was 
not  so  refined,  so  delicate,  and  so  ethereal,  as  it 
inigiit  have  been.  After  all,  however,  it  came 
better  from  Fred  than  lighter  compliments. 
It  was  frank,  direct,  outspoken,  and  suited  to 
hisstyli^;  and,  therefore,  the  Countess  liked  to 
liavehim  express  liimself  in  this  way. 

"I  do  beleef  dat  you  adamarrame,"  said  she, 
"what  you  call— ofally!" 

Upon  this  Fred  assured  her  in  the  strongest 
language  tliat  he  did,  and  used  stronger  an. 
stronger  expressions,  until  at  last  the  only 
wonder  was  that  he  did  not  down  on  his  knees 
and  ask  her  to  be  his  forever.  But  though  the 
Countess  expected  such  a  conclusion,  and 
awaited  it,  and  though  such  a  thing  would 


I 


I 


TIIK  BABES  IN  THE  WOOD. 


huvH  been  n  flltliiK  niid  npproprlnle  nt-qiifl  to 
■iicli  u  bt'KinuliiK.  yvt,  118  11  mallHi'  of  fiiut.  Ficd 
dill  nut  do  It. 

Tliuru  >vuru  Kurcrul  ruaaotiH  why  Frui)  did 
not. 

Tliu  first  renHoii  wan  that  thi'y  wei'H  In  ii  jtiilt- 
llc  pliU!H,  with  lotA  of  pcopit*  wiilkiUK  itliout 
ill  thu  Knrdcii  patlm. 

Tlu)  8tt«!ond  rt'iiiion  wiia  thiit  lit  n  oriticnl  mo- 
ment thi'y  uutt  Ui'iiMiitu  and 'Arrlt't,  and  the 
latter  Kiive  him  8ueh  a  loolc  that  It  nrrextei]  the 
flight  of  IiIh  feeliiiKaiid  fancy. 

And  thu  third  and,  purhnp!*,  ti'iient  rencon 
Trns  that  Fred,  In  npltu  of  all  his  xelf-conceit, 
and  other  (|ualitle8  was  actually  excessively 
liashfiil.  This  qiaillty,  like  the  liuhit  of  hlnsh- 
ing,  was  onu  which  he  had  Inherited  from  a 
boyhood  which  was  not  very  remote.  Out  of 
a  sort  of  honest  fcelhiR  he  poured  forth  tor- 
rents of  admiration  and  praise;  but  when  It 
oume  to  the  nctuni  point,  he  shrank  Imok  In 
bashful  fright,  lie  felt  hlniHcIf  sufflc^iently  In 
love  with  the  beautiful  Countess  to  commit 
any  act  of  folly  or  absurdity,  but  could  nut 
bring  himself  to  say  to  her  that  he  loved  her. 

Now  the  Countess  was  Teinarkably  acute, 
and  had  a  singular  gift  of  rending  character. 
She  understood  this  pecnli:..  .ty  of  Fred,  an<l 
laved  him  all  the  better  for  this  very  thiug.  It 
made  him  seem  so  different  from  other  men. 
Ho  seemed  so  good,  and  honest,  and  fresh,  and 
true.  She  delighted  In  watching  his  broad, 
frank  face,  all  aglow  with  enthusiasm  or  ex- 
citement, on  seeing  him  rush  heatllong  onward 
at  the  impulse  of  feeling  till  he  reached  the 
impassable  barrier  which  liis  boyish  modesty 
set  up. 

'"E  is  de  sweetest  bloked  I  ever  saw,"  said 
the  Countess,  to  herself.  She  found  herself 
dwelling  much  en  his  many  virtues,  au<l 
graduall3'  growing  infatuated  about  him. 

Fred  saw  'Arriet  that  same  evening,  and 
found  her  very  stern.  The  fact  is,  'Arriet  had 
felt  much  cut  up  at  her  encounter  with  him 
and  the  Countess  in  the  garden.  She  had  seen 
his  face  all  aglow,  and  had  heard  some  of  his 
wild  words.  The  society  o  Grassato  and  his 
delicate  compliments  remained  unheeded  for 
the  rest  of  that  walk,  and  she  went  home 
tliirsting  for  vengeance. 

Her  feelings  for  Fred  had  uot  yet  subsided 


Into  Indifference.  llt*r  case  had  been  a  com- 
mon one.  She  was  the  daughter  of  .-ulgar 
parents,  who  ha<l  caused  her  to  be  educated  as 
a  lady.  The  <-<inBi'(|uence  was  that  the  ways  of 
her  parents  grew  distasteful,  and  their  associ- 
ates Initeful.  She  loved  the  society  of  ladles 
and  gentlemen.  For  a  husband  It  was  a  sine  qua 
non  with  her  that  he  should  be  a  gentlennin. 

Now,  Freil  was  the  most  geutlciuatily  fellow 
she  had  ever  seen.  lio  was  very  well  (?on. 
neeted.  In  many  n-speets  she  (^ould  not  hope 
to  lliid  his  equal.  Thu  only  fault  was  that  he 
had  no  moiu-y.  This,  howt^vei',  was  a  sliglit 
one.  She  lu^rself  would  rather  have  a  poor 
nuin  like  Fred,  than  a  rich  num  of  her  father's 
Older.  As  to  the  old  pcopli*,  they  themselves 
had  something  of  thu  siiiiie  feeling,  and  had 
looked  upon  Fred's  attentions  with  com- 
placency. 

Now,  however,  'Arriet  saw  that  Fred  was 
slipping  away,  and  she  was  forced  to  ask  her- 
self the  question,  whether,  after  all,  the  Count 
would  compensate  for  him,  and  even  It  the 
Count  would,  she  <'ould  not  help  teeliiig  mor- 
tillcd  at  losing  him  so  epenly. 

"  Wo  don't  Bce  very  much  of  yon  now, 
Mr.  Fotherby,"  said  'Arriet;  "yon  seem  loo 
iiiuoh  taken  up  with  your  nristocratic  asso- 
ciates." 

"  Do  I, tlieugh,"  said  Pied ;  "  what  nonsense. 
Why,  I'm  here  every  day." 

That  was  the  fact. 

"Oh!  yes;  but  those  are  only  formal  calls. 
But  I  suppose  you  have  so  nniny  friends." 

"  W<'ll,  not  so  many." 

"Oh!  it's  only  the  one  fiiend,  I  suppose?" 
said  'Arriet,  bitterly. 

"  What  do  you  mean? ' 

"  Oh !  you  know,"  said  'Arriet.  "  I  mean  the 
Countess,  of  course.  You  make  no  secret  of 
your  feelings,  sir,  I'm  sure." 

"  Oh !  ^well,  you  must  allow  she's  an  awfully 
nice  woman,  and  awfully  pretty." 

'Oh!  well,  her  face  would  do  for  a  picture 
—but  for  my  part  I  wouldn't  trust  her.  She's 
treacherous." 

"Nonsense,"  said  Fred;  "  I  believe  she's  as 
earnrst  and  sincere  as  any  body." 

"The  admiration,  certainly,  seems  mutual." 

"Think  so?'*  said  Fred,  highly  pleased  and 
gratified. 


1  I 


m 


■f... 


i 


TUB  BAIiKS  IN  THE   WOOD. 


sr 


"  I  iillow."8nlil  'AirliJ,  "  that  «reiit  bfiiuty 
may  bu  iM.-iociutfd  with  luonil  worth,  thouRh 
oiiu  (loeii  nut  ottvu  fliid  tho  two  toKcther. 
Your  Countess  U  bt>iiutl[iil,  l>ut  fllppimt  and 
worthk'Hs.  liiitniatk  wliut  a  coniraul  thcro  is 
in  tht' Kt'ntU'Uiai.  wlioni  nh«)  inlnxliutd  liern— 
11  siiiKiilai  ly  liandKonif  man— with  all  iliiiKiaocH 
of  a  tlnishcd  Kcnilcinun,  iind  yet  a  frank,  loyal, 
manly,  honest  nalun-." 

"What!"  cried  Fred,  tliundtTslrmU.  "You 
tlon't  mean  UrasMito." 

"I  refer  to  tho  Count  diOnWBiito,"  said  'Ar- 
Ti^l,  plaeidly. 

"  What!  lliat  monkey— tliat  grinidng  bab- 
oon—that  iiiiol,  with  his  l>ows  and " 

"  Mr.  Fotherby,"  naid  'Arriet,  aeverely,  "I 
ttonld  thank  you  to  remember  (hat  tho  Count 
Giassato  is  my  friend,  and  liiati  will  not  al- 
low him  to  bti  vilified  by  onu  whom  1  think 
bis  inferior  in  every  respect." 

"Ills  inferior!"  nioniwa  Fred.  "Oh!  ye 
j;ods  and  little  fishes!  11(8  inferior — why,  in 
tlie  flrat  phieo,  I  don't  consider  tiim  a  man  at 
all.  He  looks  like  a  woman  dressed  up  in  man's 
clothes." 

"  It  is  always  tlie  way  witli  lower  natures 
and  vulgar  souls,"  said  'Arriet,  loftily.  "They 
respect  only  bodily  size  and  strength;  wliereu« 
,tho  greatest  heroes  have  always  been  small 
liien.  Napoleon  and  Nelson  were  little  men. 
-iBo  were  Alexander  the  Great  and  Ju- 
lus  Ctesar.  Among  poets  and  i>hilo8ophers, 
llgain " 

"  Oh,  Lord !    Only  listen  to  this,"  groaned 

Tred.    "  Why,  do  you  mean   to  say  that  this 

Infernal  Grassato  is  to  be  named  on   the  same 

'jBay  with    Napoleon  and  Nelson — well,  I  like 

•^hat.    Come,  perliaps  he's  the  Archangel  Ga- 

J)riel,  too.    Go  it,  I  say.    Pile  it  on.    Grnssato! 

'#Why,  I'd  flght  half  a  dozen  such  fellows  as  that ; 

I  %  miserable,  common    Italian,    with   a   pasty 

face,  and  the  manners  of  a  dancing-master. 

Why,   that  fellow  isn't  fit  to  be  in  the  same 

room  witli  an  English  gentleman." 

' '  That  is  your  envy.  He  is  more  refined  than 
you,  and  that  is  the  chief  point  of  differ- 
ence." 

Fred  stood  glaring  indignantly  at  lier. 

"  So  this  is  your  style  of  thing,  is  it?"  said  he; 
I"  and  this  is  what  you  call  fidelity,  and  all  that 
Isortof  thing?" 


"  I  do. I'l  see  what  (his  has  to  do  with  fidel- 
ity." 

"Ch,  yes,  you  do,  mlcs.  You  know  very 
well  A'hat  1  mean.  Vou  remember.  And  af- 
ter wluit  passed  between  us.  And  now,  ttie 
til  St  thing  I  know,  1  find  you  mad  after  a  fel- 
low like  this." 

"  I  am  not  mad  about  any  one,"  said  'Arriet, 
who  felt  immen^»ely  gralilled  at  Fred's  vio- 
lence.    It  looked  like  jealousy. 

"And  if  you  think  I'm  going  lo  let  that  fel- 
low (luletly  step  hi  and  do  wliat  litj  likes,  you're 
mistaken.    I'll  punch  ids  head." 

"  Mr.  Fothorby,  I  must  once  more  request 
you  not  to  abuse  my  fi lend— an  Itaiiau 
nol>le." 

"Italian  tiddhstick,"  said  Fred,  angrily. 
"What's  a  Count?  Everylmdy's  a  Count  in 
Italy.  An  Engllsli  gentleman  of  good  family 
is  l)etter  every  way.  It's  only  tlie  lower  orders 
in  England  who  admire  Italian  Counts.  The 
Italian  nobility  is  not  the  real  thing.  It's 
jiinchbeck.  I  wouldn't  change  the  name  of 
Fotherby  for  any  title  In  all  Italy." 

"  Well— well— wlint  made  you  so  attentive  tO 
the  Countess?  '  said  'Arriet. 

"The  Countess!" said  Fred.  "Oh,  a  fellow 
must  be  civil  to  tlie  ladles." 

"You  never  speak  to  me  now,"  said  'Arriet, 
who  was  rapidly  relenting,  i)artly  from  re- 
awakened tenderness,  and  partly  because  she 
was  profoundly  affected  by  Fred's  scorn  of  the 
Italian  nobility.  What  if  Grasscto  were,  as  he 
said,  only  pinchbeck? 

"Speaic  to  you?"  said  Fred,  "Why,  how 
c.in  I,  wlien  I  never  get  a  chnnc e,  with  that  fel- 
low forever  in  this  house,  and  trotting  around 
with  you  all  day  long?  Fact  is,  I  thought  your 
ta.ste  was  queer,  but  thought  you  were  enjoy- 
ing yourself;  and  so  I  went  about  in  the  free 
and  easy  Continental  fashion,  doing  the  agree- 
able to  the  only  other  lady  of  my  acquaint- 
ance—a  lady,  too,  who  had  the  good  taste  to 
prefer  an  English  gentleman  to  her  Italian 
friend." 

This  was  the  last  blow  to  'Arriet's  obduracy. 
She  softened  utterly.  There  was  a  grand  re- 
conciliation, in  the  midst  of  which  the  writer 
of  this  came  away. 

Came  away,  puzzled  and  mystified,  and  mus- 
ing on  the  fickleness  of  Fred  Fotherby's  too 


\2 


38 


TEE  BABES  IN  THE  WOOD. 


susceptible  heart.  Where  would  it  till  end? 
Or  how  loug  might  Fred  hope  to  keep 
this  up? 


CHAPTKR  IX. 

JEAIiOirS    OF    HIMSELF. 

Hero's  McOinty  in  a  fix— 
Pitting  end  to  artful  tricks. 

Meanwhile,  the  love-lorn  McGinty  still  felt 
himaelf  unable  to  come  to  nny  tleoisiou,  and 
while  devoting  hiniself  to  Kitty  under  the 
name  of  Smithers,  was  iinuljle  to  devise  any 
means  by  which  he  could  extricate  himself 
from  a  false  position. 

Kitty  was  always  bright,  always  amiable, 
aud,  it  may  be  added,  always  very  cordial, 
and  even  affectionate.  A  rare  and  radiant 
spirit,  tills  Kitty— never  cast  down,  always 
buoyant,  gentle,  and  universiilly  populiir;  n 
slender,  trim  figure,  b\ue  eyes,  hair  of  golden 
hue  and  silken  texture,  wliich  was  never  ar- 
ranged the  same  M-ay  on  two  successive  days, 
and  a  nobility  of  expression  which  made  her 
face  a  perpetual  studj*. 

"Well,  Mr.  Smilhei's,"  said  she,  on  this  occa- 
sion, "how  awfully  late  you  are.  I  hope 
you're  notgrowing  faithless.  I'm  afraid  about 
tills  Miss  Rosette " 

"Oh,  Miss  Kinnearl"  said  McQinly,  re- 
proachfully. 

"Well,  but  how  do  I  look  this  morning?' 
said  Kitty. 

"  You  look  perfectly  lovely,''  said  McGinty, 
in  a  voice  that  was  tremulous  with  emotion. 

"I  don't  believe  you  mean  what  you  say," 
said  Kitty,  "  but  I  like  to  hear  you  say  it  just 
the  same.  There's  something  so  sweet  and  8«i- 
gary  about  praise.  And  I  ])erfectlj'  lovo  being 
praised.  I  think  that  it's  the  loveliest  tiling  in 
all  the  world."' 

"That's  what  I  think  of  you,"  said  Smithers, 
bluntly  but  honestly. 

At  tills  Kitty  fastened  her  eyes  on  him  with 
a  strange  look. 

"Now  there,"  said  siie,  "  that's  just  what  I've 
always  said.  That's  the  right  way  to  talk  to 
me.  I've  alwnya  said  that  you  ought  to  be 
more  gallant,  ami  pay  more  compllmenfs,  and 
all  that  sort  of  thing.    And  now,  Mr.  Smithers, 


of   course    you  have  brought  me  a  letter?" 

McGinty  sighed  and  shook  his  head. 

"Do  you  really  mean  to  sit  there.  Mi-.  Smith- 
ers, and  look  me  in  the  face,  and  say  that  you 
have  no  letter  at  all?"  asked  Kitty,  ;:;  a  low 
voice. 

McGinty  shook  his  head  more  dismally  than 
ever. 

"Well,"  said  Kitty,  "if  ever  there  was  a 
modern  Ariadne,  you  now  behola  that  unhap- 
py being.  Tliere  is  beginning  to  be  a  cool 
heartlessiiess  about  Mr.  McGinty's  treatment 
of  me  that  isabsolutely  unparalleled.  So  long 
as  he  wrote,  I  could  be  content;  and  what 
malces  it  worse,  I  see  plainly,  Mr.  Smithers, 
that  you  no  lojiger  sympnthize  with  me." 

At  this,  Kitty  heaved  a  heavy  sigh,  and  put 
her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes. 

"  I— I—"  cried  McGinty,  "  I  not  sympathize! 
Good  Lord,  Miss  Kinnear!  I— I'd— I'd  lay 
down  my — my  life!" 

"Well,  then,  why— don't  you  gig— gig— gig- 
get  me  a  lit— letter?"  soblied  Kitty. 

McGinty  looked  all  around  with  a  wild  eye. 
What  should  he  do?  Kitty's  distress  was  too 
much.    Should  he  tell  all? 

He  looked  toward  lier.  All  his  being  went 
out  in  unutterable'  yearning. 

The  yearn  grew  stronger. 

Stronger! 

He  couldn't  stand  it  any  longer. 

"Oh!"  ho  began. 

Kitty  sobbed. 

"Oli.Kik !•' 

Ho  stopped.  Ought  he  to  call  her  by  her 
Christian  name.  After  all— dared  he  reveal  the 
truth?  No,  no.  Better  wait.  He  could  not 
yet  risk  all.    Better  write  another  letter. 

"He  might  know," said  Kitty,  "howowfully 
lonely  it  is  liere,  where  everybody  is  so  taken 
up  with  everybody  else,  and  there's  not  one 
single  soul  In  all  the  world  that  I  can  ever  see 
for  even  five  minutes!" 

"Oh,  Miss  Kinnear!"  said  McGinty,  deeply 
wounded;  "you  don't  mean  that— you  forget 
me." 

"I  do  mean  it,"  said  Kitty,  sadly;  "and  I 
don't  forget  you.    It's  you  that  forget   me." 

"Forget you!  never— no, no!" said  McGinty, 
vehemently. 

"You've  got  your  own  friends,"  said  Kitty. 


THE  BABES  IN  THE  WOOD. 


•'Yoii  Imvo    this   little    lady   tliat    you  have 
brought  hero  as  maid,  and  you  won't  tell  me 
:^one  word  about  her." 

"  It's  a  friend's  secret,"  said  MuGinty,  in  dis- 
tress. 

"But  you  have  no  right  at  all  to  keep  any- 
thing a  .«eeret  from  me  at  all,  when  I  ask  you 
about  it,"  said  Kitty;  "and  especially  a  thing 
iiof  tliis  kind." 

■t  MeGinty  was  deliglited  at  this.  II<'  eould 
ftiiily  murmur  something  about  the  seeret  not 
ibeing  long  to  keep. 
M  "Now,  Mr.  Sniithers,  you  mist  bring  me  a 
>fietter  to-morrow,"  said  Kilty.  "Youjimst.  I 
i'lnean  it." 

And  Kitty  looked  so  serious,  that  MeGinty 

s',  ■ 

,  nt  onec  deeided  to  furnish  the  letter. 
:>    "I'll  do  what  I  can,"  said  he;  "but  I  don't 
'?liko  tills." 
'    "  Wliat  don't  yon  like?" 

"  I  don't  like  MiGinty's  behavior." 

"  Sueh  as  what  ?" 

I     "Well,  going  off  to  Naples,  and  remaining 

'"'  there  at  such  a  time." 

:,      "I  should  think  it  ought  to  seem  strange— 

:  and  imagine  how  it  must  bo  to  me— but  tlien 

he'll  write  soon." 

\-:i     MeGinty  shook  his  head  and  sighed  : 

■■■i,'    "  I'm  nfiaid  that  he  Is  not  much  to  \w  relied 

(.5 

•gnpon— I  slionldn't  like  to  trust  him." 

j|    At  this  Kitty  started  up  witli  a  warning  ges- 

Iture. 

•f    "Oh,  you  naughty  man!    You  wicked  man ! 

You    treacherous,     false,     faithless     friend! 

rYou're  trying  to  undermine  my  coufldencu  In 

|tny  poor,  dear,  old  McQint}'- you're  trying  to 

oison  my  mind  against  the  man  that  I've 
n  so  faithful  to.    Oli,  Mr.  Smithers,   how 
could  you  be  so  awfully  base!" 

At  this  McGlnty  felt  depri.-saed. 

"  You  seem  to  have  no  end  of  confidence  in 
MeGinty,"  said  he. 

"  Of  course,  I  have,"  said  Kitty.  "  My  con- 
fidence In  liim  is  slaiply  boundless.  V/liatcvcr 
ho  does,  whatever,  I  don't  care  what,  I  will 
trust  in  litm  all  the  same.  1  know  him  too 
well  to  doubt  him ;  no  matter  how  strange  his 
conduct  may  seem,  he  shall  find  that  theio  is 
one  who  knows  him  to  liis  heart's  core— ai;d 
trusts  him  implicitly." 

There  was  a  little  thrill  iu  Kitty's  voice  as 


she  said  this,  and  she  spoke  It  in  a  way  which 
was  different  from  her  usual  bantering  tone. 

MeGinty  looked  more  distressed   than  ever. 

"  Couldn't  j'ou  lose  faitlj  iu  him  under  any 
clrcutnstauees?" 

"  No." 

"  Under  no  jyossllUc  circumstances?" 

"  No." 

"  Couldn't  you  ever  love  another  man?" 

"  Never— never.  Not  if  I  were  to  live  a 
tliousand  years," 

"  But  other  women  do,"  said  poor  MeGinty; 
"  widows  love  and  muiTy  second,  and  even 
third  liusbands." 

"  Well,  I'm  110^  a  widow,"  said  Kitty,  with  a 
laugh  ;  "  and  I'm  sure  I  don't  want  to  be  one — 
and  If  3'ou  ask  nu!  wluit  I  should  do  if  I  were 
to  bo  one,  wliy  I  won't  answer." 

Had  MeGinty  not  been  in  his  present  false 
position,  all  this  would  have  been  delightful 
beyond  measure,  but  as  it  was,  it.  only  in- 
creased his  gloom.  For  his  position  was  now 
so  peculiar,  that  the  very  fidelity  which  ho 
ouglit  to  liave  loved  he  was  compelled  to  fear; 
yet,  iit  the  same  time,  he  could  not  help  loving 
it.  He  was  trying  to  shake  her  faith  in 
MeGinty,  so  as  to  win  it  for  Smithers;  was  iu 
despair  when  lio  found  the  faith  unmov- 
alile;  and  yet  out  of  Iiis  d<'spair  ho  regarded 
Kitty  with  greater  lov<!  and  admiiation  than 
ever.  In  fact,  our  friend,  MeGinty  was  rapidly 
developing  into  one  of  tliose  wonders  of 
modern  fiction,  a  "  psychological  study,"  and 
I  only  regret  that  I  cannot  go  into  this  more 
deeply.  But  if  a  fellow  begins  to  psychologize 
what  will  become  of  his  story? 

"  Have  you  ever  been  able  to  decide  on  any 
particular  cause  for  McGinty's  strange  ab- 
sence?" asked  he,  at  last. 

"Well,  to  that  I  can  only  answer,  n  9  I  al- 
ready have  for  some  tweWo  or  thirteen  hun- 
dred times,  yon  know,  iu  the  brief  words— 
'no— liave  yoti?"  " 

"Oh!  well  ycui  know  I  only  thought  that, 
perhaps,  you  might  liave  thought  of  BOine- 
thlnz  new,  you  know." 

"No— for  I  don't  bellevo  I  ever  thought  of 
anything  now  in  all  my  life,"  said  Kitty, 
fixing  her  large,  blue  eyes  upon  MeGinty, 
with  that  peculiar  expression  of  mournful 
archness,  or  of  humorous  melancholy,  whlob 


4U 


TUE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


be  loved  to  see,  and  which  he  called  the  face 
of  a  mirthful  Ceiiei. 

"I begin  to  tbiuU  it  must  have  been  some 
pnliticnl  (li£Boulty." 

"  I  begin  to  think  that  you  are  no  more 
original  than  Itini,"  said  Kitty.  "  IIow  often 
have  you  made  that  remark.  Why,  you've 
said  thtit  a  thousand,  timea  a  day." 

MoGinty  siglied.  He  was  migliiug  iit  thia  in- 
timacy between  them,  whieli  could  never  be- 
<;ome  more  a — thou-art-so-near-aud-yet-so-far 
kind  of  feeling. 

"I  tell  you  what  I've  thought  of— some- 
thing new,"  be  said,  briskly. 

"Something  ue«— not  really?"  said  Kitty, 
brightly.    "Well?" 

"Perliaps  he  has  decided  (o  become  a  Roman 
Catholic  priest?" 

At  this  Kitty  looked  at  MoGinty  with  a  face 
of  irrepressible  fun. 

"  Ah,  now,  Mr.  Smithers,  have  you  the  heart 
to  look  me  in  the  eyes  and  say  that?" 

At  this,  poor  McGinty  was  once  more  struck 
dumb.  No,  he  could  not  look  her  in  the  eyes, 
and  meet  their  clear  gaze — the  gaze  wherein 
was  so  much  fun,  and  mirth,  and  seriousness, 
and  tenderness  all  combined— ha  could  not  do 
so,  and  say  tliose  words. 

"  Suppose  he  should  be  insaie,"  he  suggest- 
ed, at  last. 

"Insane?"  said  Kitty.  "Why  in  the  world 
do  you  hint  at  such  a  thing?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  Icuow,"  was  the  somewhat  im- 
becile answer. 

"  Insane?"  said  Kitty,  keeping  her  eyes  flxed 
on  McGinty.  "Well,  really,  now,  Mr.  Smith- 
ers, I  begin  to  tliink  that  tliere  may  be  some- 
thing ill  that.  His  conduct  seems  mad.  He 
Bcems  to  be  acting  like  a  madman,  and,  really, 
il  wouldn't  take  much  to  make  one  think  that 
poor  McGinty  is  mad — yes,"  she  continued, 
with  lier  eyes  all  light  with  mirthful  meaning 
— "  niad— mad  as  a  March  hare— utterly  crazy— 
the  maddest  man  I  ever  saw  in  all  my  life." 

"You  believe  tliat,"  said  MoGinty,  "and  you 
will  still  be  faithful." 

"Faithful?  Oh,  of  course.  I  don't  object  to 
a  mad  husband— that  is,  one  who  is  mad  in 
tbat  way." 

"  But  he  may  be  a  raving  madman  ?"  said 
MoGinty. 


"And  I'm  afraid  he  may  be,"  said  Kilty; 
"but,  then,  I  will  hope  for  the  best;  and  you 
know  marriage  always  sobers  a  man." 

At  tliu  close  of  the  day,  when  the  hamlet 
was  still,  Mr.  McGinty  sat  in  his  room  looking 
gloonTy,  There  he  sat,  jealous  of  himself — a 
man  who  was  Ills  own  rival,  and  had  been  try- 
ing to  undermine  himself  in  the  afections  of 
the  woman  he  adored.  His  position  seemed 
horrible.  Kitty's  fond  and  familiar  little  ways 
were  almost  intolerable.  Her  looks  were 
worse.  And  he,  wretch  that  he  was!  could  he 
have  any  hope?  conid  she  ever  love  the  miser- 
able Smithers?  Pooh!  impossible.  Huw  could 
she,  when  all  the  time  she  was  expressing  such 
undying  and  touching  fidelity  for  her  losk 
McGlnly? 


CHAPTER    X. 

TOO  POPUIiAH— HOSETTB  IS  HISUKDERSTOOD. 

All  the  ladiea  glow  with  ire; 
All  the  gentlemen  admire. 

It  came  at  length  to  this,  that  little  Rosette 
found  herself  In  no  end  of  trcuble.  Searching 
for  obscurity,  she  had  simply  become  the  ob- 
served of  all  observers,  and  the  common 
centre  of  an  immensH  sensation.  The  gentle- 
men all  admired  her.  The  ladles  all  were 
jealous  of  her — and  I'm  sure  I  don't  see  wliy — 
thought  little  Rosette. 

"She's  no  good— she's  a  wortliless  huzzy," 
said  the  mamma  to  the  papa.  "She  knows 
habsolutely  nothink ;  an' she's  that  urkid  it's 
no  use  axin  her  to  do  a  turn  of  work  at  liany- 
think." 

"  She's  oncomraon,"  said  the  papa.  "  I  dare 
say  now,  she's  been  some  high  up,  tip-top, 
lady's  maid." 

"  Lady's  maid.  Indeed !  For  my  part  I  don't 
believe  notliink  of  the  sort.  She's  never  been 
nothink  till  siie  came  here.  High  up,  indeed ! 
All  I  can  say  is,  if  she  wants  to  be  high  up 
she's  got  Into  the  wrong  family.  For  I  ain't 
goin'  to  stand  lier  airs  mueli  longer.  And 
'Arriet  ain't.    And  none  of  us  ain't." 

"Oh,  well,  p'raps  she'll  do  for 'Arriet.  She 
can  show  her  a  good  many  things  that  'Arriet 
ain't  up  to  yet.  P'raps  she's  lived  among 
nobles  and  that." 

"Good  for    'Arriet!     not  her!"    retorted 


THE  BABES  IJH  TUE   WOOD. 


41 


luiitniuii.  "And  as  to  showiu'  'Arrint,  I  beg  to 
be  liigscused— none  of  her  ways  for  'Arriet, 
say  I.  I  don't  wuiit  ray  'An  iet  to  bt*  "»•  co- 
quette with  a  eai)  an'  haijorn." 

"Oh,  I  only  mean  has  to  tho  waja  or  so- 
ciety." said  the  papa,  in  a  meek  tone. 

"No— alie  won't  do,"  siiid  the  u..immn. 
"Slie's  lialtogeUier  too  worldly  an'  vain.  Her 
heart's  hall  set  on  vaiily.  She  don't  think  of 
uolhink  but  her  beyes  an'  figure— her  ribbons 

;  an'  eiM'ls.'' 

i     The  pai)a  shook  his  head  solemnly. 

"  Je.st  what  I  was  afeard  on,"  said  he,  "jest 
what  1  was  afeard  on.  Hall  vanity — nothink 
in  her  miml  but  the  vanities  an'  llie  follies  of 

1  a  frivolous  world.    An' I  ben  a-talkiu' to  her 

i  about  it " 

"Oh!  so  you  ben  a-talkin*  to  'er  about  it, 
have  yon!"  snarled  the  maninni.  "Oh,  lio! 
an' already!  Well,  then,  let  me  tell  you  tluit 
I  ain't  goiii'  to  have  any  of  them  goin's  nn— 
an'  don't  you  go  for  to  try  any  of  them  games 
agin,  or  it'll  be  the  worse  for. you.  Do  you 
hear  me!  P,"  she  cried,  elevating  her  voice, 
"do  yon  liearme!  You  l)etter  look  out  how 
you  go  a-talking  vanity  with  young  gals  like 
that." 

At  this  tirade  the  i)apa  seemed  to  shrink  up 
info  his  boots,  wliich  was  a  very  wonderful 
thing  for  the  papa  to  do,  since,  as  a  general 
thing,  lie  lorded  it  majestically  over  his  wife, 
and  usually  did  all  the  scolding  thai  was  to  be 
done.  But 'tis  conscience  that  makes  cowards 
of  us  all,  and  it  may  be  that  the  papa's 
motives  liad  l)een  less  elevated  than  he  pro- 
fessed, when  he  talked  vanity  with  little 
Rosel  te. 

The  mamma  carried  lier  griefs  to  'Arriet,  to 
whom  she  confided  them,  at  tlie  same  time  de- 
nouncing poor  Rosttte  in  charaeteristio  lan- 
gmige  and  with  unusual  vehemence. 

"She's  too  liigb  and  miglity  for  me,"  said 
she,  "  tliough  I  don't  know  'ow  it  soots  you, 
'Ariiet.  Why,  she  looks  at  me  like  as  if  she 
thought  herself  was  the  missus,  nn'  me  her 
black  cook— an'  me  a-payiu'  of  her  v/ages;  an' 
what's  worse,  your  da  is  goin'  on  too  bad.  'E's 
got  his  old  fool's  'cad  full  of  her.  It's  nothink 
with  'im  but  Rosette,  Rosette,  Rosette.  'E 
tried  to  get  me  to  stand  by  an'  let  him  talk 
goody  talk  to  her,  tlie  old   fool.     Actelly   'ad 


the  imperencu  to  portend  to  mo  as  how  that  he 
wanted  to  malce  her  ser'ous  minded.  An'  mo 
that  had  knowed  'im  more'u  thirty  year!" 

'Arriet  sighed. 

"  I  was  afraid  of  that,"  said  she.  "  Papa  is 
so  silly!" 

"  I  declare  to  goodness  gracious,"  said  the 
mamma,  "  that  tlie  fust  time  I  lieard  him  a-go- 
in'  on  about  that  young  gal,  I  thought  I'd  bust. 
An'  I  tell  you,  "Arriet,  as  long  as  she's  in  the 
'onso  wo  ain't  goin"  to  'ave  any  peace." 

"Oh,  I've  no  patience  with  her."  said 'Ar- 
riet;"  she  makes  fools  of  all  the  men — every 
one  of  them.  How  she  does  it  I  don't  know. 
It's  something  in  her  expression.  She  culti- 
vates it— but  I  can't  lay  my  hand  on  anything 
and  say,  that's  it." 

"I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  'Arriet,"  said  the 
mamma,  "she's  a  Borned  Coquette!  That's 
wiiat  she  is,  an' that's  what  I  saw,  nu'  that's 
what  I  says  tlie  very  fastest  time  as  ever  I  set 
heyes  on  lier.  I  says,  'You're  a  Borued  Co- 
quette!'" 

"Fred's  just  as  bad  as  any  of  them,"  said 
'Arriet.  "  Why,  one  day  I  came  in  and  found 
him  chatting  away  with  her  as  though  she  was 
his  equal,  and  as  though  lie  had  known  her  all 
her  life.  And  she  was  ciuitting  witli  him  in 
the  same  way.  It's  bad  enough  to  see  Fred 
uniking  a  fool  of  himself  with  tiie  Countess, 
but  to  have  liim  llirt  with  servants  under  my 
own  eyes  is  a  little  too  much.  I  spoke  to  Ro- 
sette afterwuids,  but  didn't  get  the  least  satis- 
faction. I  spoke  very  seriously,  but  she  didn't 
say  a  word.  She  only  looked  at  me,  in  that 
way  she  lias  of  looking,  just  as  though  she  was 
one's  equal,  it  not  superior,  and  occasionally 
said,  '  Yes'in.'  1  don't  want  to  be  harsh  or  un- 
just, but  I'm  resolved  to  pack  her  off  about 
her  business  as  soon  as  I  can  find  some  plausi- 
ble excuse." 

"Oh,  well,  as  to  Mr.  Fotherby,  'Arriet ;  lie's 
queer  and  odd,  but  he's  a  nice  young  man  at 
the  bottom.  Some  time,  he's  apt  to  be  delood- 
ed.  And  then  there's  these  wicked  Continen- 
tal fashions  that's  bad  for  him." 

"Then  there's  the  Count,  too,"  continued 
'Arriet.  "  1  can  see  tliat  lie's  quite  infatuated. 
I  don't  wonder  at  him,  liowever,  so  much,  for 
it's  the  fashion  on  the  Continent  tor  masters  to 
be  familiar  with  servants." 


42 


THE  BABES  IN  TEE   WOOD. 


"And  a  very  wicked  fushioii  it  is,"  said  the 
mamma. 

"Tlje  Couut  nslcsme  till  the  time  about  her. 
I  tell  him  I  don't  know  aiiythiiip,  but  he  evi- 
dently tliinks  lam  deceivinfi  him,  and  makes 
hints,  and  lays  little  traps  for  me  to  draw  me 
out.  I've  seen  liiin  also  making  little  ad  vane(^'! 
to  her.  I  must  say,  I've  never  seen  lier  re- 
spond.   In  fact,  she  don't  seem  to  like  liim." 

"Not  like  liim— ha!  ha!  Tliat's  her  cunning, 
the  sly  huzzy,"  said  the  mamma,  hysterically. 

"We  can't  keep  liei,"  continued  'Arriet. 
"That's  certain.  Tlie  house  is  in  an  uproai'. 
Everything  is  getting  into  (tonfusion  since  she 
came.  At  the  same  time,  I  don't  know  tliat  I 
quite  make  her  out,  and  I  can't  And  anything 


Site  always  seems  to  me  like  a  litllo  lady.  In 
her  accent  and  her  manner,  slie  certainly  is  a 
perfect  lady.  She  waits  on  you  witli  the  quiet 
grace  of  one.  I  can't  make  her  out,  but  I  feel 
convinced  tlint  she  is  in  a  false  position.  As 
for  tlie  men  admiring  lier,  I  really  llilnk  that 
I  admire  lier  as  mucli  as  tliey  do,  and  I  don't 
l)elieve  she  ever  gives  ttie  faintest  encourage- 
ment. The  poor  little  tidngis,  as  you  sav,  of 
no  use.  She's  a  lady.  Don't  you  see  tliat?  and 
don't  you  see  that  she  can't  possibly  make  her- 
self a  lady's  maid?'' 

"Then  what  did  she  come  here  for?"  asked 
'Arriet,  sharply. 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  said  Kitty.  "That's 
just  where  the  puzzle  is.    For  my  part,  I  can- 


in  particular  to  use  as  a  charge  against  lier.  In    not  help  feeling  always  that  she's  my  equal, 
fact,  I  don't  even  know  how  to  talk  to  lier.    I '  uud  I  can't  order  lier  about." 


never  liave  met  willi  siicli  a  person  before. 
What  I  do  say,  seems  to  make  no  impression 
on  her  wliatever.  Tliere'a  something  about 
her  tliat  I  can't  understand.  Slio's  always  per- 


"  Well,  I  can;  and  my  opinion  is,  Kitty,  that 
you  spoil  her  by  your  absurd  politeness." 

"My  dear  Harriet,  tliat  little  thing  lias 
taiiglit  me  a  lesson.    Ilei- pretty  little  words. 


fectly  respectful,  yet,  at  the  same  time,  there's  ,  and    lier   pretty    little  ways,  and  her  polite 


an  uudefiiiable  something  aljout  her  tliat  sliows 
me  plainly  that  she  considers  lierself  alto- 
getlier  out  of  my  reach,  if  not  al)ove  rae.  She 
seems  to  bo  uncommonly  critical  about  what 
is  ladylike  and  unladylike.  All  tier  notions  of 
riglit  and  wrong  are  bound  up  in  those  two 
words.  We  shall  certainly  have  to  tell  Mr. 
Smithers— only  I  don't  know  what  to  say,  for 
there's  really  nothing  in  the  world  against  her 
—and  if  we  tell  the  truth,  he'll  be  Indignant, 
and  say  we're  all  jealous  because  she  happens 
to  1)6  too  jiretty.  And  it  would  be  too  degrad- 
ing to  lie  under  an  imputation  like  that." 

"  Well,  I  don't  understand  all  them  scruples," 
said  the  mamma.  "I  only  know  this  here, 
that  that  theregal'sgot  togo,  audgosbemust; 
and  I  don't  care  one  snap  of  my  little  finger 
for  what  Mr.  Smithers  or  anybody  else  may 
think  or  say.  I  sny  that  the  peace  of  this  here 
fambly  is  ten  times  more  important  than  tlie 
notions  of  Mr.  Smithers;  add,  for  that  matter, 
my  private  opiuion  is  that  Mr.  Smithers  him- 
self is  the  wustest  of  the  whole  lot." 

Kitty  was  soon  made  acquainted  with  the 
feelings  of  'Arriet  and  the  mamma,  but  did 
not  altogether  share  them. 

"  I  tliink  you're  too  hard  on  her,"  aaid  Kitty. 
"  for  my  part,  I  think  she's  a  dear  little  thing. 


little  epceelu'S  are  beyond  anything  I  ever 
lieard.  Have  you  ever  seen  any  failure  in 
lier  perfect  politeness?  I  sliall  never  for- 
get how  she  took  a  terrible  scolding  from 
your  mamma  witli  lier  '  yes,  i)lease,'  and  her 
'  Oh,  if  you  please,  I'm  really  very  sorry,'  and 
one  cannot  sny  more  than  that,  you  know; 
and,  finally,  'I'm  sure  j'ou  would  not  he  so 
unkind,  my  dear  Mrs.  Patterson,  if  you  only 
knew  how  you  wouikI  me  by  such  remarks.' 
She's  a  study,"  said  Kitty,  wlio  had  imitated 
little  Rosette  to  the  life  in  tliese  remarks; 
"slie's  a  perfect  study;  and  I've  teased  Mr. 
Smithers  till  I'm  tired,  to  tell  me  all  about  her, 
but  he  won't  give  me  any  satisfaction.  Wlio 
can  she  be?  Wliat  in  the  world  is  she  doing 
here?  She's  certainly  a  lady— tliere  ore  marks 
of  high  breeding  in  every  word  and  act.  But 
what  in  the  world  is  she  doing  here?  It  can't 
be  tlie  game  of  '  She  Sloops  to  Conquer,'  for 
who  is  there  to  conquer?" 

"Who?"  said  'Arriet,  catcliing  at  tliis  last 
word,  "  who?  wliy  all  the  gentlemen!" 

At   tills   Kitty  burst  into  u  merry  peal  of 
laughter. 

"  Well,  what  Rood  does  that  do  to  the  poor 
little  thing?    It  only  worries  her," 

"Worries  her!"  said  'Arriet,  bltterlj'.     "i 


l-e 


■■;S 


:% 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


43 


think  you'd  think  T«;ry  fliffereutly  if  you  were 
I  to  see  your  dear  friend  Mr.  Suiitbers  at  her 
J  feet." 

At  this  Kitty  gave  a  start. 

"  Wlmt  do  you  mean?" 

"Wliat  I  say." 

"Mr.  Smlthers  at  her  feet!" 

"Of  course.  Isn't  he  lier  all  in  all— her 
juide,  pliilosopher,  and  friend— Iter  protector 
iiid  champion?  Didn't  he  luring  her  liere? 
^sn't  he  the  only  one  that  knows  lier  secret? 
)oesn't  heguard  it  like  liis heart's  blood?  Wliy 
lie  won't  tell  it  even  toyoul    Mr.  Smithers! 

Thy  he's  quite  as  infatuated  as  any  of  the  rest 
kf  them.  In  fact,  more  so.  I  believe  he  thiuks 
if  notliingbut  her.  Oh,  I've  seen  tliem  talking." 

By  tliis  time  Kitty  had  regained  her  com- 
posure. 

"  Oh,  nonsense.  Of  course  lie  knows  at)0ut 
iber.  Of  course  he  takes  a  kindly  interest  in 
Jut.  He's  spoken  to  her  of  course— possibly 
Ipade  a  few  kind  inquiries.  Naturally  he 
lakes  an  interest  in  her." 

"Oh,  very  deep,  very  deep,"  said  'Arriet. 
♦•But  that's  exactly  what  I  don't  like.  If  I 
liave  a  maid  I  want  lier  to  do  lit-r  duty  and  re- 
member her  place.  I  don't  want  her  to  be  the 
(jear  friend  of  my  dear  friends.  I  don't  want 
icr  to  come  between  me  and  others.  I  may  be 
J»ery  harsh,  very  cruel,  very  unjust,  and  even 
^ery  jealous;  but  I  can't  help  it;  and  you 

lust  allow,   Kitty,  that  its   very   hard   for 

ae,  after  innocently  takinj  a  person  as  my 

aaid,  and  innocently  imagining  that  I  was  her 

jistreas,  to  come  upon  my  maid  one  day  pre- 

Buding  to  retreat  from  the  Count  deGrassato, 
|inotlier  day  deep  in  a  most  familiar  chat  with 

Ir.  Fotlierby,  and  a  third  day  profoundly  nb- 
lorbed  in  some  communication  from  Mr. 
Jmithers." 

Kitty  wns  evidently  much  moved,  though 
^he  tried  not  to  show  It. 

"  I  don't  believe  there's  any  barm  In  poor 
Jittle  Rosette,"  said  she. 

"Oh,  no— perfect  Innocence." 

"  I  don't  care— why  should  I  care  for  Mr. 
ISmithersf 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  'Arriet,  in  a  very 
■aggravating  way.  "I  thought  ho  was  your 
|dear  friend." 

'  Harriet,  what  do  you  mean  by  such  an  iu- 


sinuation?"  said  Kitty,  with  some  warmtb. 
"lam  engaged  to  Mr.  McGinty,  and  expect 
every  day  to  see  him  here.  We  are  to  be  mar« 
ried  before  long.  So  why  should  I  be  inter- 
ested  in  the  proceedings  qf  Mr.  Smithers?'' 

"  Oh,  well,  you  know,  one  likes  to  have  one's 
frieud  as  long  us  one  can." 

"I  like  Mr.  Smithers  very  well,  of  course," 
said  Kilty,  in  a  tone  of  candor. 

"  And  one  often  likes,  Kitty,  dear,  to  have 
two  strings  to  one's  bow." 

"Two  strings?" 

"Certainly,"  said  'Arriet.  "Now,  don't  get 
mad,  Kitty,  dear;  I  mean  no  offence.  Only  I 
will  say  this,  that  if  you  haven't  two  strings  to 
your  bow  it's  no  matter;  but  if  yon  liave,  the 
Smither's  string  is  being  rapidly  gnawed 
asunder  I)y  tliat  sly  little  mouse,  Rosette." 

"  Well.  Harriet."  said  Kitty,  "  I  can  only  re- 
buke you  in  the  words  of  little  Rosette,  and 
say — '  Really  I'm  sure  if  you  only  knew  bow 
wry  particj/IoWy  impleasant  all  this  is  to  me, 
you  would  not  make  use  of  sncii  language.'  " 

"  Oh,  come  now,  Kitty,  you  needn't  take  up 
tliat  tone,"  said  'Arriet.  "  Haven't  yon  yourself 
teased  me  about  two  gentlemen,  Mr.  Fotherby 
and  the  Count.  And  did  I  ever  grow  angry? 
80  don't  be  silly." 

"Oh,  but  that's  a  very  different  thing." 

"Different!  I  should  like  to  know  bow! 
Here  you  are  engaged  to  Mr.  McGinty.  He  is 
absent.  In  his  absence  his  frieud  appears  who 
sliows  to  you  a  devotion  which  is  simply  un- 
paralleled in  my  bumble  experience.  To  say 
tliat  he  worships  the  ground  you  tread  on  is 
nothing.  But  I  won't  pursue  the  subject.  I 
merely  remark  in  the  mildest  manner  in  tbe 
world,  that  it  is  hard  to  lose  such  a  friend  on 
account  of  an  adventuress  that  no  one  knows 
anything  about." 

"  Harriet,"  said  Kitty,  "don't  be  silly." 

As  these  events  were  thus  exciting  the  ladies 
of  tbe  household,  the  Countess,  in  the  course 
of  her  daily  calls,  informs  herself  of  every- 
thing. But  while  the  conduct  of  little  Rosette 
excited  hostility  and  suspicion  in  other  minds, 
in  the  Countess  it  inspired  nothing  but  admir.> 
ation,  in  the  expression  of  which  she  was  most 
enthusiastic. 

"  Dio  mio,"  said  she,  "  de  Rosettina  haf  allo- 
way  ben  a  gran  admirazione  to  me,  but  1 


44 


THE  BABES  IN  THE  WOOD. 


liefare  dream  dat  (lis  could  liuppt-ii.  Shu  luiike 
efery tin  one  perturbnziont\  Sbe  liaf  diit  ei^prit 
—dat  fasfiiiuzloue — she  make  dem  all  her  uap- 
tivi.    I  oharui  about  her  inyser." 

"She  u  ojus,  artful  minx!"  said  Mnmma 
Patterson.  "She'saeuquutte,  and  thcuileuu't 
abear.    We  can't  have  her  here.    She  must  go." 

"Ob,  den,  I  hope  you  weel  let  nie  know,  an' 
den  I  gall  gat  her.  I  sail  tink  luysef  fortunala 
eef  I  sail  get  de  Reset tina  to  niysef.  Ilaf  you 
tole  Signer  Suieedair?" 

"No,"  said  'Arriet,  gloomily;  "not  yet.  I 
don't  know  what  to  say  to  him.  I  have  only 
suspicious.  I  can't  find  out  anything  against 
ber,  except  that  she  doesn't  know  anything 
about  the  duties  of  a  lady's  maid— and  the 
worst  of  it  is,  Mr.  Smithers  told  us  that  before 
we  took  her.  I'm  afraid  he  will  laugh  at  us 
and  think  we  are  jealous  of  ber,  unless  we  find 
some  real  objection." 

At  this  the  Countess  laughed  long  and  mer- 
rily. 

•^"  O,  Dio  raio,"  she  said.  "  Eet  is  de  Signori. 
Dey  all  tly  to  her— stHpiaf  de  incantaments 
for  dem.  She  one  siren,  an'  sing  to  dem.  Dey 
all  captivi.  De  Signer  Pattasina  lofe  her  like 
apadre— deConte  Grassato  lofe  her  like  one 
amato— de  Smeedair,  e  lofe  her  like  one  broder 
—an'  Signor  Fodairby,  he  lofe  her  wid  de  gus- 
to of  de  artist.  All  de  same— dey  all  lofe  de 
Rosettiua— I  tell  you  now.  You  say  notin. 
You  let  her  come  to  me.  She  be  my  lady 
maid.  I  charm  wit  ber.  In  Italy  we  make  great 
friend  wit  de  cameriere,  de  domesticki,  and  de  | 
aervante." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

VERY   UNIiADYLIKE— NO  ONE  TREATS  HEH  WITH 
COMMON    POLITENESS. 

Poor,  afflicted  little  maid, 

Don't  you  hope  for  Smitliers'  aid? 

It  was  all  true— too  true.  The  gentlemen 
adored  ber;  the  ladies  bated  ber;  and  between 
the  two  the  poor  little  thing  had  no  peace. 
The  mamma  could  not  possibly  be  more  rude 
than  she  bad  been,  but  became  more  disagree- 
able by  pestering  ber  more  frequently;  'Ar- 
riet grew  more  exacting,  and  Kitty  seemed  to 
•have  her  mind  poisoned.  The  vulgarity  of 
tbe  former  wiw  bad,  but  ber  daughter's  harsh- 


ness seemed  worste,  and  little  Rosette  found  it 
hard  to  bear,  so  she  grew  very  sad,  veiy  me- 
lancholy, and  very  miserable.  And  the  more 
mournful  she  grew  in  mind,  the  more  did  she 
show  upon  her  face  a  pathetic  beauty  which 
made  her  more  enchanting  tlioD  ever.  No  one 
that  pretended  to  iiave  the  heart  of  a  man 
could  look  at  ber  wiihout  feeling  stirred  by 
sympathy  to  the  profoundest  depths  of  his  na- 
ture. But  this  veiy  thing  made  it  ail  the 
worse  for  lltllo  Rosette,  and  tbe  tender  grace 
of  her  pathetic  face,  which  so  charmed  the 
gentlemen,  awakened  fresh  indignation  in  the 
ladies. 

This  was  tlie  state  of  things,  wiien  one  day 
McGinty  bore  down  upon  her  to  answer  what 
he  considered  a  sigiuil  of  distress. 

"  You  look  lather  blue,  little  one,"  said  be. 
"Cheer  up;  you  ought  to  hear  from  your 
father  soon.". 

Rosette  sighed. 

"  I'm  sure  you're  very  kind,  indeed,"  said 
she,  "and  I'm  sure  I'm  very  grateful ;  but  I 
wish  you  -jould  do  something  to  make  these 
people  stop  scolding  me  so.  If  I  don't  hear 
from  papa  soon,  I  shall  bare  to  quit  this  bouse 
—that  is,  if  they  don't  drive  me  away  them- 
selves." 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter?"  asked  Mc  Ginty, 
who  had  not  known  anything  hitherto  of  Ro- 
sette's troubles. 

"They're  all  very  cross  and  very  unkind 
to  me." 

"  WhatI  all?"  asked  McGinty,  in  surprise. 

"No;  not  all— Miss  Kinnear  did  not  use  to 
be,  but  she  don't  take  any  notice  of  me  at  all, 
now;  and  I  call  that  unkind,  I'm  sure.  And,  at 
flrnt,  she  was  so  very  good  that  I  felt  content." 

"  Oh,  she  will  always  be  good,"  said  McGinty 
"  But  what  about  the  others?" 

"The  others,"  said  Rosette,  are  very,  very 
rude,  indeed ;  and  they  scold  one  so,  nod  con- 
tradict one  so,  and  order  one  about  so,  that  I 
scarcely  dare  to  open  my  mouth.  I  don't  be- 
lieve that  the  police  would  ever  treat  me  so 
rudely  as  Mrs.  Patterson.  I  don't  believe  a 
dungeon  would  be  lialf  so  gloomy  as  this 
house.  And  so,  if  you  please,  Mr.  Smithers,  I 
thmk  I  shall  go  and  give  myself  up." 

Rosette  spoke  these  words  with  a  gentle  mel- 
ancholy, and  a  tender  resignation,  wbioh  made 


I 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


45 


Smitliera  feel  cut  to  the  heart.  It  was  like  a 
reproaeli  to  himsBlt.  It  was  his  doing.  How 
ooiiltl  he  help  her?  He  ooulcl  think  of  nothiug 
except  an  appeal  to  Kitty. 

"  Oh,  well,"  said  he,  "  I'll  apeak  to  them,  and 
see  if  tliey  ean't  make  it  pleasanter  for  you. 
And  now  you  try  and  cheer  up.  Don't  tliink 
of  IcavinK  here.  If  the  police  were  to  get  you, 
your  fatiier  would  die  of  despair.  Tiiink  of 
your  fatlier." 

"But  if  papa  behaves  in  this  way,  and  runs 

away  and  leaves  me,  how  can  he  expect  me  to 

live?    I  don't  understand  being  ordered  abou( 

[BO.    And  tliey  always  will  order  me  about.    1 

;  was  never  so  ordered  about  in  all  my  life." 

McGinty  felt  much  troubled,  and  resolved  to 
[talk  it  all  over  with  Kitty. 


C'llAPTRR  XII. 

▲  VICE  LOVER— kitty's  PECITLIAR  POSITION. 

What  a  lover  fato  has  sent  her— 
Nothing  but  a  self-tormentor. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Smithers,"  said  Kitty, 

Ithe  next  time  McGinty  came.    "  I  hope  you 

[have  brought  me  a  letter  to-day." 

McGiuty  shook  his  head. 

'*  I  don't  quite  know  what  to  make  of  it." 

"Wliat?  haven't  you  a  lett«(r  for  me?" 

McGinty  mournfully  shook  his  hea<l. 

"How  you  can  have  the  heart  to  treat  me 

said  Kitty,  in  a  melancholy  tone;  "after 

?hat  I  told  you— after  I  made  such  a  point  of 

jetting  a  letter,  is  more  than   I  can  imagine. 

riiy,  I've  told  you  so  more  than  a  thousand 

tiini's  a  day,"  she  added,  with  characteristic 

Bxaggernlion. 

"I'm  sure,"  said  McGinty,  "I  don't  know 

iow  I  could  bring  you  a  letter  if  he  didn't 

rrlte  one." 

"  But   you   should    have   made  him  write. 

That  is  tlie  good  of  you  as  mutual  friend  and 

confidant,  if  you  can't  make  everytliing  go  on 

Bmoothly  ?  Come,  now,  don't  you  think  you've 

Itreated  me  very  badly?  and   won't  you  pro- 

jmisenot  to  do  so  any  more?— and  won't  you 

jregister  a  vow  on  high  to  bring  me  a  letter 

Inext  time?    Oh,  you  must,  you  know.    If  you 

idon't  1  shall  not  speak  to  you.    I  shall  transfer 

[all  my  young  affections  to  Mr.  Potherby." 

"Potlierby!"    said    McGinty.      "He's   got 

I  enough  affect  ious  already  to  take  oare  of." 


"Well,  it  shows  tliat  he  must  take  good  care 
of  them,  or  he  wouldn't  be  so  favored.  But,  I 
suppose,  you  have  come  to  see  about  your  fair 
young  friend.  Don't  be  anxious.  Site  shall  lie 
well  taken  care  of.  You  have  been  so  kind  tome 
tliat  I  sliall  be  willing  to  do  this  for  your  sake." 

"To  do  this!    What?"  asked  McGiuty. 

"  Why,  to  watch  over  her  for  you." 

"  Watch  over  her?" 

"  Yes- your  inamorata,  little  Rosette." 

"Rosette I  pooh,  nonsense,  Miss  Kinnear: 
you  cannot  iunigiue  that  she  is  anytliing  to 
me.    You  are  joking,  of  course." 

"Ah,  now,  Mr.  Smithers,  what  is  the  use  of 
making  such  a  mystery  of  it  ?  Come,  you  must 
be  candid  with  mc,  yon  know,  I  assure  you  I 
detected  it  from  tlie  first.  And  I'm  sure  she's 
something  better  than  common.  Aiul  I  do  be- 
lieve that  she's  the  most  awfully  beautiful  girl 
that  ever  was  born  since  the  world  was  made. 
She's  a  sweet  little  thing,  and  she  does  the 
most  infinite  credit  to  your  taste." 

McGinty  began  to  mutest  against  this. 

"Oil,  I  like  her  a^H^y.  I  Inu)  a  long  talk 
witli  her.  She  reposes  the  most  implicit  faith 
in  you.  Such  utterly  d(!Voted  faith  I  never 
saw  in  all  my  life.  She  refers  to  you  in  every 
single  tiling." 

"  Miss  Kinnear,  I  assure  you  that  you  give 
me  pain  by  such  inslTiuations." 

"  But  I  think  it's  so  pretty,  it's  quite  touch- 
ing. It's  a  beautiful  thought,  and  I  hope  she 
will  always  feel  so  for  your  sake.  But  wheo 
is  it  to  be?" 

"It!    What?" 

"  Why  the  happy  event,  of  course." 

"Happy  event!" 

"The  wedding— liow  very  stupid  you  are 
pretending  to  be." 

"  Oh,  I  assure  you  that  you  are  utterly " 

"Oh,  nonsense!" 

"  I  declare— I  protest — I  swear,  that  you  are 
utterly  mistaken " 

"  Nonsense.  You'll  hurt  her  feelings,  and  in- 
jure her  too,  if  you  deny  and  disclaim  her  in  this 
fiishion'.  Well,  I  think  It  hard  that  you  won't 
even  tell  me  when  your  wedding  is  to  be." 

McGinty  sat  looking  vexed  and  perplexed. 

"  I  wish  I  could  tell  when  you  are  In  fun,  and 
when  you  are  in  earnest,  or  whether  you  are 
ever  in  earnest,"  he  said. 


46 


THE  BABES  IN  TUB   WOOD. 


t 


"  Why  there  never  was  a  more  earnest  per- 
son than  me  ever  bom  since  the  world  was 
made,"  said  Kitty ;  "  but,  come— let  us  mal^e 
an  agreement— will  you  promise?" 

"What?" 

"No  matter.  Will  you  promise— and  prom- 
ise bliudly?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  let  your  wedding  be  arranged  so  as  to 
fall  on  (he  same  day  as  mine — and  we  can  both 
be  married  together,  so  that  there  won't  be 
any  pangs  of  separation  and  all  tliat,  for  we 
sliall  eacli  have  something  to  console  us." 

MeGinty  sat  staring  at  Kitty  for  some  mo- 
ments in  litter  r uizement.  Her  words  were 
very  ambiguous,  and  might  be  interpreted  in  a 
better  way  than  he  dared.  But  the  reality  of 
his  situation  suggested  itself,  and  his  spirit 
drooped. 

"  Oil,  yes— I  promise  that,"  said  lie. 

"Thank  you;  but,  in  the  meantime,  may  I 
nsit  you,  dear  Mr.  Smitbers,  not.  to  forsalce  me 
altogether.  An  abi^||^  separation  is  liard. 
Even  if  it  is  easy  to^^Ht  Is  liardto  the  otlier. 
And  so  don't  let  yourSelf  be  too  exclusively 
taken  up  with  your  sweet  Rosette.  Remem- 
ber, sir,  that  your  position  is  one  of  great  re 
sponsibiliiy.  You  are  Mr.  MoGinty's  represen- 
tative. I  regard  you  as  his  vicar— a  vice 
McGiiity.  Until  lie  comes  I  insist  upon  the 
same  attention  from  you — as  from  him;  the 
same  fidelity,  and  tlie  same  vigilance.  I  shall 
be  awfully  exigeante  with  you — and  horribly 
jealous.  I  have  given  you  my  confidence  and 
esteem,  and  If  you  dare  to  desert  me,  even  for 
Rosette,  [  shall  never,  never  forgive  you— no, 
not  for  all  the  rest  of  my  life." 

So  McGinty  thought  that  for  the  present  he 
would  have  to  postpone  his  remarks  about 
little  Rosette. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

HABD    ON    THE  UTTLE     QIRI/— TOO     TOUNQ    FOB 
SUCH  A  POSITION. 

Poor  Rosette!  your  woes  Increase; 
You  skould  call  on  the  police. 

Fred  got  iuto  the  habit  of  coming  to  the 
bouse  when  the  ladies  were  out,  so  as  to  see 
Rosette,  and  this  was  hard  on  the  little  girl. 
and  not  fair  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Fred,  who,  as 


usual,  thought  of  nothing  but  his  owo  noble 
rielf,aiid  never  noticed  the  cloud  of  care  that  was 
gathering;  over  the  fair  young  brow  of  little 
Rosette.  But  for  that  matter,  the  cloud  of 
care  was  usually  dispersed  at  his  appearance, 
and  was  succeeded  by  so  liriglitasunshine  that 
perhaps  after  all  Mr.  Fred  may  be  exoused  for 
not  discovering  her  troubles. 

At  length,  one  day,  the  cloud  was  too  deej), 
and  Fred  noticed  it. 

And  what  was  it  7 

Oil,  why,  she  was  not  happy. 

"Not  happy?"  lie  cried- "not  happy?  I 
said  80—1  knew  it.  How  can  you  be?  Why 
can't  you  leave  this  confounded  place?" 

"Well,  I  in  afraid  I  must.  I  told  Mr.  Smith- 
eis  so,  but  he  advised  me  to  wait  a  little 
longer." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Smithers- you  told  Mr.  Sinitliers. 
And  so  you  think  his  advice  is  better  than 
mine " 

"Oh,  now,  Freddie,"  began  Rosette,  "don't 
talk  so.    I  feel  sad." 

"Smithers!"  cried  Fred,  bitterly,  taking  no 
notice  of  Rosette  in  liis  awakening  jealousy. 
" Sinitliers  1  I'd  like  to  bo  informed  what 
light  he  has  to  your  confidence.  My  opinion 
of  Smithers  is  that  he's  an  infernal  jiuppy!- 
yes,  an  infernal,  pig-headed  l>uppy,  that's 
wliat  he  is.  He  got  you  into  this  so'ape,  and 
now  it  seems  he  won't  get  you  out  of  it.  By 
Heaven,  I'll  see  that  scoundrel  hinisilf,  and 
have  it  out  with  him  this  very  day." 

"  Oh,  no.  no,  Freddie,  you  must  not.' 

"Must  not?" 

"Oh,  no;  let  my  secret  remain  a  little  longer. 
Don't,  please  don't,  make  any  disturbance — 
ple-e-e-e-ase  don't,  Freddie." 

"Well,  but  I  want  to  know  wliy  you  tell  him 
all  your  secrets,  and  won't  tell  me?" 

"  I  didn't.  It  was  papa.  It's  liis  business— 
not  mine.  Do  you  think  I'd  keep  anything 
from  you,  Freddie,  unless  it  was  papa's " 

"  Well,  I'm  ten  times  more  your  father's 
friend  than  this  fellow  Smithers.  Do  you 
tliink  if  your  father  was  here  he'd  trust  him? 
Not  a  bit  of  it.  But  I  see  how  it  is ;  you  don't 
care  for  me." 

"Oil,  Freddie!"  said  Rosette. 

"  No,  you  don't ;  you  don't  care  for  me  a  bit," 
lepeated  Fred,  gloomily. 


teai'i 
awtv, 


« 

4 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


47 


*'  I  do— I  do  care  for  you."  snid  Rolette,  ear- 
nestly. 

"  No,  you  don't,"  persisted  Fred ;  "  you  don't 
care  any  more  for  me  than  If  I  were  a  red 
dog." 

"I  do,"  cried  Rosette,  her  eyes  filling  with 
tears;  "and  you  know  I  do;  and  I  think  it's 
awfully  cruel  for  you  to  say  1  don't  cjnre  for 
you  when  you  know  I  care  for  you  awfully. 
Everybody's  cruel  to  me  now." 

At  tliis  Fred  'jroko  down.    He  relented.  He 
kis.sed  Rosette,  and  tried  to  soothe  her. 
?      "  I'm  a  confounded,  infernal,  and  ubomina- 
'  ble   brute   and    reptile,  and  I  won't    do    so 
a^ain,"  he  siiid.    "  Only  I  can't  bear  to  see  this 
■  miserable  puppy   taking  possession  of  you— 
'i  putting  you  hero  among  vulgar  people,   de- 
grading you  to  a  menial  position,  and  then 
J  coolly   refusing  to   get  you  out   of   it  when 
I  you're  unhappy.    Whatever  this  secret  is  of 
1  your  father's,  my  opinion  is  that  it  isn't  much ; 
t  mid  tjiat  he's  a  humbug,  and  is  only  taking 
advantage  of  your  ignorance.    What  possible 
danger  can  there  be  to  you  if  you  live  here  like 
n  lady,  in  a  respectable  way,  with  your   own 
name?    Or.  at  any  rate,  if  you  insist  on  con- 
cealing your  name,  why  can't  you  f.'o  and  live 
.  with  the  Countess?    I'll  tell  her  who  you  are. 
^aYour  seci'et  will  be  safe  with  her;  or,  if  you 
'^like,  I'll  simply  tell  her  that  you're  a  relative 
of  mine— or  a  friend— and  she'll  be  glad   to 
take  yon  on  my   recommendation.    At  any 
'rnte,  this  isn't  the  proper  place  for  you.  You're 
f  ten  times  more  of  a  lady  than  all  these  people 
iput  together." 
^    "Do  you  think  I'm  as  ladylike  as  the  Coun- 
tless?" aslfcd  Rosette. 
I    "The  Countess?    Pooh!    Why,  she  isn't  .It 
|to  be  your  maid." 

I  "  I'm  sure  that's  very  kind  in  you  to  say 
„that,  dear  old  Fred,"  said  little  Rosette  with 
:M^  smile,  that  lieamed  like  sunshine  through 
Sftlie  clouds  and  the  tears.  "  And  I  like  having 
;;foine  one  kind  to  me.  Every  one  here  is  so 
4inkind." 

"  Who  is?"  said  Fred,  fiercely.    "  That  beast, 
jSitiithers,  1  know.    I'll  punch  his  head." 
';:;1    "No,  no,  Mr.  Smithers  is  kind  enough.   The 
>  orst  is  that  Italian,  Count  Grassato." 
"  What!"  cried  Fred,  "  that  pale,   slimy,  oa- 
3averoua  little  beast.     Is  lie  sneaking  about 


that  way.  Do  you  nuan  to  say  that  he  dares 
toopen  his  mouth  to  you,  Rosle?  The  nasty 
little  reptile.  I'll  punch  his  head  for  him." 

"Oh!  no,  Freddie,  you  won't.  He's  a  rela- 
tive of  the  Countess." 

"  Well,  and  what  do  I  care  if  lie  Is." 

"  Why,  you're  going  to  marry  her." 

"Well,  I'm  not  going  to  marry  him,  goosie, 
am  I?  And  do  you  think  I'm  going  to  let  any 
of  them  bother  you  ?  Why,  I'd  ring  the  necks 
of  the  whole  concern  rather  than  let  them 
bully  and  torment  you.  But  can't  old  Patter- 
son have  some  control  over  -his  wife?  Has  he 
ever  overheard  her?" 

Rosette  sighed. 

"  He's  the  worst  of  all." 

"What!"  cried  Fred. 

"  He's  a  horrid,  nasty  old  man,"  said  Ro- 
sette, with  a  frown. 

"  Why,  the  Infernal  old  devil.  What  do  you 
mean,  Rosle?"  asked  Fred,  anxiously. 

"  Why,  he  .comes  and  he  talks,  and  he  an- 
noys me,  and  he's  as  hflteid  as  he  can  be." 

"As  sure  as  I  live.'^^B  Fred,  "  I'll  pound 
that  old  vagabond  to^Ttiummy.  Only  think 
of  it,  and  he  such  a  confounded  moralizer — al- 
ways talking  goody— always  giving  advice  to 
the  young.  Why,  he  owns  a  chnpel  in  London, 
and  jireaehes  himself.  Well,  Rosle,  if  that's 
so,  that  ends  it.  It's  an  infernal  disgrace  to 
you  to  remain  here  another  day.  You  must 
come.  I'll  speak  to  the  Countess  at  once.  You 
must  come  to-day,  or  at  least  to-morrow." 

"  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure,  about  that, 
Freddie,"  said  Rosette,  in  a  hesitating  way. 

"  Why  not?"  asked  Fred,  sharply. 

"  Why,  I'm  afraid." 

"  Afraid  ?" 

"  Yes,  for  you  know  if  I  go  to  live  with  the 
Countess  there'll  be  that  odious  little  Count 
Grassato." 

"  Rosette,  I'll  go  to-day  and  I'll  kill  that  little 
beast— or  at  any  rate  I'll  beat  him  to  a  jelly; 
so  now  he  shan't  trouble  you  any  more.  You 
make  up  your  mind  to  go  to  the  Countess- 
mind  yon— not  as  a  servant,  but  as  a  friend; 
call  yourself  any  name  you  like— keep  your 
present  one  if  you  like." 

"  Oh !  I  don't  know,"  said  Rosette.  "  I  think 
I'd  better  give  myself  up  to  the  police  at  once 
and  be  done  with  it." 


48 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


"Pooh!  Nongeiise,  you  shan't  doanyihlnj; 
of  the  kind.  You  trust  to  tne.  I'll  nmnnge 
every  thing." 


.     CHAPTER  XrV. 

THE  OOOI>  PAPA— HIS  AMIAHLE  WATS. 

Freddio  romos,  and  with  a  whaok, 
Lays  papa  upon  hla  back. 

It  wns  the  day  nfter.  "  Me  Rosette  wns 
nlone.  Slie  wassail  and  taken  up  with  her  own 
eaci  tlioughts. 

"I'm  sure,"  she  thought  to  herself,  "I'm 
like  n  princess  in  a  fairy  story  (only,  of  course, 
I'm  not  a  princess)  in  some  castle,  full  of 
ogres,  and  giants,  and  vampires,  and  wizards, 
and  tilings,  tliat  all  worry  me,  and  tease  me. 
and  torment  my  life  out,  and  frighten  me  out 
of  my  poor  little  wits.  The  women  all  scold 
me,  and  the  men  all  tease  me,  and,  I'm  sure,  it's 
awfully  cruel  in  papa  to  run  away  so  and 
leave  me  here  with  such  people;  only,  I  sup- 
pose, he  couldn't  heb||||;  and  I  do  really  be- 


.Igl: 


gin  to  wi:3h  tliat  I  cdHf  see  a  kind  policeman, 
and  I'd  give  myself  up;  and  I  wonder  if  i)apa 
would  really  be  angry  if  I  did?  he  certainly 
would  not  if  he  were  to  liear  some  of  tlieir 
scoldings.  And  it  would  be  so  nice  to  be  un- 
der the  care  of  the  police,  and  pio^ected  from 
all  these  people." 

Out  of  such  thoughts  as  tliese,  little  Rosette 
was  suddenly  roused  by  an  nppro.icliing  foot- 
step. She  looked  up,  and  as  she  did  so,  the 
door  opened,  disclosing  the  portly  figure  of 
Papa  Patterson.  A  bland,  benevolent  smile 
was  on  his  broad,  fat  face,  and  he  advanced 
toward  her.  As  he  did  so.  Rosette's  brow  con- 
tracted slightly,  and  her  little  fingers  twitched 
nervoHsly  at  her  dress. 

The  Papa  approached.  Rosette  looked  at 
the  floor. 

"  Well,  my  child,"  said  he,  in  his  most  oily, 
paternal  tone — "well,  my  child,  so  they  have 
left  you  alone,  have  they?  And,  it  seems  to 
me,  that  you  ain't  a  lookin'  so  bright  as  onst. 
'Pears  to  me  that  you're  lookin'  a  leetle  sad. 
'As  hany  think  pone  wrong?  No  bad  noos,  I 
'ope  an'  pray.  For  I  feel  deeply  hlnterested  in 
you,  my  child— I  do,  indeed.  I  'ope  you'll  ter- 
rust  in  me,  and  confide  in  me,  nn'  tell  me  all 
your  terroubles." 


He  stopped,  awaiting  some  answer,  but  Ro- 
sette said  nothing.  Her  brow  was  contracted 
worse,  and  her  little  fists  were  clenched. 

"My  child,"  resumed  the  venerable  papii,  In 
a, more  lioly,  oily,  unctuous  voice  than  ever, 
"you  didn't  ought  to  be  sad  in  this  'ere  dwell- 
in'.  It's  a  dwellin'  of  peace;  It's  a  dwellhi'  of 
'appiness;  an'  it's  a  doowellin'  of  love.  .You'd 
orter  be  gerrateful;  you'd  orter  to  think  of 
the  perrivileges  that  j-ou  'ave  in  this  abode; 
you  'ave  kind  friends— lovin'  friends;  you  'ava 
mercies  an'  blessin's;  you  'ave,  above  all— you 
'ave  me  the  'ead  of  the  'ouse;  an'  when  I  say 
me,  I  mean  a  man  that's  known  as  a  pillan- 
throphist  (such  was  the  papa's  pronunciation, 
no  pun  intended),  a  reformer,  a  friend  of  the 
people,  and  a  warm  'carted  man." 

Anotlier  pause.    No  answer. 

"Now,  I've  'ad  my  hi  on  you  sence  you  came 
here.  I've  seen  you— I've  noted  you.  I've  ad- 
mired your  goodness.  I  feel  a  true  affei'tion 
for  you,  my  dear  child.  'N I  feel,  I  fe-e-e-e-«- 
e-el " 

With  these  words  lie  reached  oux  a  big  fat 
hand  so  as  to  take  the  little  liand  of  Rosette,  a 
habit  in  which  tlie  papa  was  apt  to  indulge 
while  talking  goody  talk,  so  as  to  make  his 
words  more  impressive;  and  a  habit  to  wliieh, 
I  r.m  sorry  to  say,  the  mamma  never  could  be 
recon(!iled,  so  that  the  papa  was  compelled  to 
give  most  of  his  good  advice,and  talk  most  of 
Ilia  goody  talk,  behind  lier  back.  So  now  he 
reached  out  for  Rosette's  hand,  but,  sad  to  say, 
he  found  it  not. 

Tlie  papa  heaved  a  heavy  sigh. 

"I  want  to  show  yoti,  my  dear  child,  that 
you  air  among  loving  ferriends,  and  that  in  me 
you  liave  one  on  whom  you  can  rely,  and  in 
wlioin  you  can  terrust.  You  have  won  a  place, 
my  child,  in  my  heart.  I  take  a  deep  an' 
abiditi' interest  in  you,  an'  I  want  to  do  you 
good.  I  want  to  siliow  you  'ow  you  may  best 
attain  to  terrew  peace.  I  see  as  'ow  that 
you're  a  leetle  too  much  inclined  to  the  ways 
of  vanity,  and  to  the  ways  of  wordlings,  and 
to  tlie  ways  of  frivolity.  And  now  I  want  you 
to  tell  me  your  terrlals  and  your  terrubbles — 
and  your  ferribulations." 

"If  you  please,  sir," said  Rosette,  "I'd  so 
very  much  rather  not  have  you  tell  me  any- 
thing at  all.    I'd  so  very  much  rather  not." 


^ 


• 


f 


TUB  BABES  IN  TUB   WOOD. 


40 


^^ 


1 


■3 

9 


1/    s 


^1^ 


•a' 


"3 

o 

•a 


a 

S 


a 


a 

3 

•n 

•a 


00 

-3 


■V 


I 


"Uut)-cM»-i(|i,  my  cliildl    Turrrru  uot  iideaf 
cor  to  tlin  words  of  inatorruotlou." 

•'  If  you  pU'fwo,  Bir,"  said  Ronuttf,  politely,  but 
Bhiirply,  "  I'd  somri/rauclinitln'r  iiotlmv»(  yoii 
litTu  talUiiiK  to  lue,  and  If  you  dou't  very  luucli 
mliid,  1  should  wrj/  nauoli  rathor  bo  aloiii'." 
I  "Alouf!"  miid  (lie  good  papa,  rolling  up  hid 
^eyes  and  nigblng.  "Oli.  no— no,  no.  Tlial's 
^ot  what  you  vant.  That's  not  what  U  good. 
Sbat's  not  what  is  wise.  Is  soUtood  wholf- 
fome?    No.    So  wt!  luiwt  all  try  to  mako  it 

leasunt  for  our  dear  llttlo  friond.    Wo  must 
'^11  try  to  make  'er  'appy." 

'Exi'uso  me,"  said  Ri)sette,  still  maintiilning 
^er  unfaii'jring  politeness,  but  in  a  quick, 
Ibarp  tone,  raised  liigb,  and  with  tlie  words 
#Oming  out  with  a  simp.  "  Kxcuse  me,  sir,  I'd 
Sen/,  v&r\j  much  rather  bo  (iu,'dc  alone,  than  be 
irith  people  who  talk  disagreeably." 
I  "Oil,  no— no,  no,"  Bttid  the  pupa  again,  in  a 
!||rheedling,  coaxing  tone,  excessively  irritating 
^  Eosi'tte.  "  you  don't  understand  me,  I  see. 
|jome,  let  me  tell  you  a  pretty  story." 
t  "I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Rosette,  with  the 
|itme  snap  in  her  voice,  "but  Ivcri/mueb  pre- 

r  not  to  hear  any  btorles  at  all." 

The  papii  sighed,  and  looked  at  her  with  a 

leved  expression,  and  an  air  of  fatherly  re- 
ke. 

^'''My  dear  young  friend,"  said  he,  reaching 
^t  onee  more  to  take  her  hand.  Rosette 
l|>ied  to  step  back,  but  the  papa  had  a  long 

tni,  and  his  big  fat  hand  closed  around  lier 
iider  wrist,  and  stie  was  captured. 
"I  am  not  your  dear  friend  at  all,"  said 
Rosette,  struggling  to  pull  her  wrist  from  his 
grasp;  "and  I  should  be  very  much  obliged 
indeed  if  you  would  let  go  my  hand,  sir." 
"Oh,  no.  Wait.  Hear  me  out.  But  one 
rd.  It  shall  be  a  word  in  season.  II  shall 
a  word  from  one  who  has  tried  In  liis  feeble 
y  t  o  do  gt»od  to  his  fellow  creatures.  Listen, 
child,  to  a  solemn  word." 
ut  Rosette  would  not  listen.  With  her  other 
id  she  sought  to  disengage  the  grasp  of  her 
erable  friend,  who  still  went  on  talking  in  a 
f«|emn  monotone, with  his  hand  like  n  manacle. 
J*  Lisrten,  my  child."  he  continued,  "  to  the 
rds  of  the  poet.  "Ow 'appy  his  the  child 
t  ears— Insterructlon'g  warning  voice— and 


But  at  this  niiiineiit  there  were  footsti';;) 
and  voices.  Tlie  door  was  thrown  open, and  lu 
stalked  Fred. 

He  saw  It  all,  and  stood  rooted  for  a  raomen' 

to  the  spot. 

The  papa  had  been  too  much  engaged  in  bis 
discourse  to  hear  'he  footsteps,  and  eontiimed 
it  in  the  same  tone  Ills  back  was  turned  to 
the  door,  so  that  he  saw  nothing.  But  little 
Rosette's  face  wa  turned  towards  Fred,  so 
that  be  inidursto 'il  all.  It  was  Hushed,  her 
eyes  glittered  with  intllgnant  anger  as  she 
struggled  in  vain  to  get  rid  of  the  grasp  that 
held  her. 

"Fred!"  she  cried.    "Oh,  I  am  so  glad  I" 

At  this  old  Patterson  stopped  short,  and 
turned,  still  holding  Rosette.  The  next  in- 
stant Fred  sprang  toward  liim  and,  without  a 
word,  hit  him  a  smashing  blow  straight  fiom 
the  slioulder,  full  on  his  brnad,  fat,  rubhtund 
coiintenanee.  And  the  aged  man  went  over 
at  once,  and  lay  on  his  baek. 

Others  gatheied  upon  the  scene. 

The  maniiiiaeaine  in  with  a  shriek;  'Arriet, 
pale  and  horrilled;  Kitty,  astonished  ;  McGinty 
anxious,  as  well  he  might  be;  fltially,  tlie 
Countess,  with  her  large  eyes  taking  in  th« 
whole  scene. 

For  a  moment  there  was  a 

Tableau  1 

Then  dumb  show,  in  which  Fred  turned  to 
Rosette  and  took  her  hand.  But  Rosette  tore 
herself  away  aiid  rushed  out  of  the  room. 

Then  again  a  Tableau. 

The  silence  was  at  length  broken  by  some 
comments  put  forth  In  a  critical  way  by  the 
Countess. 

"Dio  mlo!  De  ole  signer!  'E  get  caught. 
Dees  is  like  one  scena  in  de  teafro— an*  de 
Signer  Fodairby  is  de  'ero  of  de  play!" 

CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  MAMMA  HEBUKES  THE  PAPA. 
Oh,  good  gracious  I  here's  a  row! 
Whore  can  Bosie  turn  to  now? 
For  some  time  there  was  dead  silence.    Thl3 
as  a  matter  of  course.    During  the  silence  the 
aged  papa  began  to  pick  himself  up,  and  at 
length  gained  half  way  of  the  distance,  where 
lie  rested  In  a  sitting  position  on  the  floor.    He 
then  reconnoitred  the  neighborhood. 


00 


THE  BABES  IN  TUE   WOOD. 


The  first  person  timt  lie  snw  was  llu;  iiiam- 
ma.  lu  fikct,  liti  eould  hai'dlyuvol(l«eeiiig  her 
first,  for  she  stood  bt-foro  all  the  rest,  coucimiI- 
iDg  them  by  tier  ample  outline,  with  her  eyes 
fixed  upon  liini,  her  arms  akimbo,  and  her 
whole  expression  full  of  evil  omen  for  the  fu- 
ti>!-e  peaue  of  the  papa. 

"Well,"  she  began,  "and  so  it'seome  to  this! 
I  do  wonder  that  the  earth  don't  open  be- 
neath you.  and  swaller  you  np,  or  that  <lie 
lightuiuk  don't  deseend  and  bust  you  up— or 
that  some  bother  judgmink  don't  fall—which 
it's  this  I've  'ad  to  bear  hull  my  days,  an' 
goodness  only  knowges  what  a  life  I've 'ad, 
on'  more'n  enough  for  mortial  flesh  an'  blood. 
How  dure  you  look  me  in  the  face?  How  dare 
you  hold  uj)  yonr  'eud?  How  dare  you  face 
the  light  of  day?" 

"I  wasu't  doing  of  anythink,"  muttered  the 
papa,  as  soon  as  the  uuimmagave  him  a  uhauce 
to  put  in  a  word. 

"Oh,  no— you  wasn't  doin'  of  hanythink!" 
retorted  the  mamma,  starting  out  from  this  as 
from  a  text  for  a  new  sermon;  "  as  hinnoeink 
as  a  latub.  Never  means  any  harm.  Oh, 
no—" 

"I  tell  you  1  wasn't."  growled  the  papa, 
sulkily,  "I  was  only  having  a  little  good  dis- 
•course  with  Rosie,  when " 

"Oh,  mjM  a  little  good  discourse  with  Rosle! 
TTou  eau't  humbug  me.  'Aven't  I  heyes?  Can't 
I  see?  Don't  I  understand?  Didn't  I  see  it 
nfore?    Didn't  I  warn  you  agin  this  here? ' 

While  she  was  yet  speaking  the  papa  sueeeed- 
ed  in  getting  upon  his  feet,  and  then  beat  a 
hurried  retreat  to  the  door.  Turning  there, 
:be  shook  his  fist  at  Fred,  with  a  malignant 
Xaoe,  and  then  went  off,  banging  the  door  be- 
tiind  him. 

Tlie  mamnm,  thus  disappointed  of  one  vie- 
tlm,  turned  to  And  another. 

"Whar's  that  huzzy?"  she  said.  "Wh-'.r's 
that  baggage?    Whar  is  slie,  till  I " 

"I  beg  pardon,"  said  MeGinty,  eoming  for- 
ward, "but  I  eaunot  allow  you  to  talk  that 
way  about  Rosette,  who  is " 

"And  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Fred,  inter- 
rupting McGinty,  and  facing  liim  witli  a 
haughty  frown.  "  Allow  me,  sir,  to  call  your 
attention  to  the  fact  that  Rosette  is  no  longer 
aoytbiug  whatever  to  you.    I  will  see  that  she 


is  in  a  proper  place,  and  under  proper  guard- 
ians—though what  the  devil  you  meant  in  de- 
grading her  as  you  have  done,  is  a  question 
that  I  will  ask  of  you  elst- where." 

At  this,  MeGinly  stared  at  Fred  in  amaze- 
ment and  hot  indignation. 

"You  don't  know  what  you  are  talking 
about,"  said  he,  sharply. 

"I  know  too  much,"  said  Fred,  hotly.  "I 
know  that  you  l>ronKht  Rosette  here,  know- 
ing, as  you  must  have  known,  that  this  wna 
no  place  for  her;  stnfliiig  her  with  nonsense; 
frightening  her  with  your  humbug  about  tht 
police,  and  stibjecting  her  to  shame  and  con- 
tinual insult." 

MeGinty  gnashed  liis  teeth, but  repressed  his 
rage  by  a  mighty  effort. 

"The  man's  mad,"  he  said,  addressing  the 
ceiling. 

"It  may  suit  you  to  say  so,"  cried  Fred; 
"1)ut  you  shall  find  that  there  is  a  method  in 
my  jnudness." 

"What!"  cried  McGinty,  losing  all  control 
of  himself;  "is  that  a  flirent ?'' 

"Take  it  as  you  please,"  said  Fred,  with  a 
sneer. 

"  You  shall  give  me  satisfaction  for  this " 

"  And  you'll  have  to  give  me  satisfaction  for 
your  infernal  tieat...  m  of  Rosette.  By  Heav- 
en, sir,  you  must  have  been  mad.  Didn't  you 
know  \vho  her  friends  were?" 

The  ladles  had  listened  to  all  this  with 
frightened  eyes,  I'xcept  the  Countess,  who,  I 
am  sorry  to  say,  seemed  to  rather  enjoy  it  all. 
"  De  bloked,"  she  sighed  to  lierself,  "ees  so 
grand  In  bees  anger.  It  moos  come  to  one  du- 
ello.   De  scena  ees  magniUt^antissima." 

But  at  this  momiMit,  Kitty  liurried  forward, 
and  stood  between  the  two.  laying  her  hand 
on  McQinty'sorm. 

"For  shame,  gentlemen,"  she  cried;  "you 
forget  that  ladies  are  liere.  Mr.  Smithers,  ]/ou^ 
I'm  sure,  will  not  carry  on  this  brawl." 

Hot,  fierce  words  were  on  McGlnty's  tongue, 
but  they  died  away  at  the  touch  of  Kitty's  lit- 
tle hand.  His  eyes  were  lowered  from  the  face 
of  Fred,  and  falling,  encountered  the  soft 
glance  of  Kitty  turned  appealingly  toward 
him.    He  sighed.    Fred  saw  it  all. 

"  I  beg  pardon.  ladies,",8ald  he.  "  Mr.  Sroith- 
ers  and  I  can  see  one  another  elsewhere" 


I 


TnE  BABES  m  TUE   WOOD. 


51 


Ills  witli 
who,  1 
y  it  all. 
•'  eea  so 
one  du- 


I  tongue, 

itty'Bllt- 

the  face 

the  soft 

towHrd 

r.Sinlth- 


"  As  you  please,  sir,"  said  McGinty. 

Fretl  tlien  stalked  out  of  tlie  liouse. 

"Well,"  said  'Airiet,  "it  seems  that  wo  are 
no  longer  mistresses  in  our  house.  Rosette  is 
mistress  liere.  Gentlemen  eome  ami  go  with 
no  otlier  purpose  in  life,  apparently,  tlian  to 
qiiarn;!  and  brawl  about  her.  I  be;;  pardon, 
Mr.  Smltliers,  and  hope  I  have  not  just  said 
anytliing  about  Rosette  to  wound  your  feel- 
ings. We  all  know  how  important  her  wel- 
fare is  to  you.  Perhaps,  in  future,  she  will  be 
happier,  and  you,  too,  if  she  is  taken  under 
your  immediate  proteetion." 

Willi  this  parting  shot,  'Arriet  turned  to 
her  mamma,  and  taking  the  old  lady's  arm, 
drew  her  out  of  the  room.  Kitty,  whose  faee 
was  now  flushing  crimson,  bade  a  cold  adieu 
to  McGinty,  and  with  the  Countess,  followed 
the  otlier  ladies. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE     mamma's     last     SHOT. 

WImt  nn  odious  persecutor- 
Poor  Bosotto  can  never  suit  her. 

I  liiTTLE  Rosette  had  fled  to  iier<room,  where 
file  flung  hershelf  down  upon  her  bed,  and  had 
a  good  liMig  cry.  After  this  she  felt  much  bet- 
ter, and  sat  up  near  a  window  with  lier  chin  on 
her  hand,  and  her  mind  full  of  sad  thoughts. 
,  Worse  and  w-rse,  she  thought.  How  they 
•111  scold  and  go  on!  But  this  must  be 
♦lie  end  of  it,  and  what  urn  I  ever  to  do? 
That  dreadful  old  man!  And  now  poor 
freddie  will  go  and  get  himself  into  trouble, 
i.id  all  about  me!  for  knocking  him  down. 
Ipeihaps  the  police  will  arrest  him.  Oh!  if 
tliey  only  do,  I  know  what  Pll  do  at  once.    Pll 

SVC  myself  up  on  the  spot— make  them  arrest 
e,  too,  and  well  go  to  prison  together.  Per- 
tenps  we'll  be  locked  up  in  the  same  room ;  and 
Wouldn't  that  bo  perfectly  lovely? 
•  This  idea  was  so  pleasant,  that  a  bright  smile 
fiashed  over  her  face,  and  in  the  Ught  of  tliat 
Uea  she  went  and  washed  her  face,  and  suc- 
Beded  in  removing  the  traces  of  her  recent 
tars,  except  her  poor  little  eyelids,  wliich  re- 
kained  redder  than  usual, 
[it's  awfully  liard,  she  thouglit,  going  back 
i  her  seat.  Poor  Freddie  was  In  the  light. 
Iter  all;  and  Mr.  Smithers  was  quite  wrong; 


quite,  1  see  it  now.  He  did  very  wrong,  indeed, 
when  he  ))nt  me  here  in  this  house  with  such  a 
very  low  set  of  people.  I've  been  feeling  that 
very  strong,  though  how  was  one  to  suppose 
that  they  would  ever  begin  to  go  on  so.  I  sup- 
pose it's  always  so  when  one  puts  one's  self  in 
a  false  position.  For  my  part,  I  really  don't 
sec  how  1  can  ever  consent  to  be  lady's  maid 
again.  I'm  sure  I  think  I'd  rather  be  in  prison 
as  a  lady,  than  here  as  a  lady's  maid— and 
the  beauty  of  it  was  I  was  not  free  as  a  lady's 
maid  at  all,  for  I  have  had  no  end  of  jailers. 
And  I'm  sure  they're  far  worse  than  the  police 
—very  far.  I  never  knew  before  tliat  there 
were  any  people  in  all  the  world  who  were  so 
awfully  vulgar.  I  don't  believe  that  savages 
and  cannibals  are  so  awfully  vulgar,  though 
they're  cruel,  of  course,  for  they  kill  people 
and  eat  them  up.  I  do  wish  I  could  see  Fred- 
die now,  and  ask  his  advice.  I  think  I'll  do 
just  what  he  says  after  this.  But  he's  very 
')oyiBh  too;  and  I'm  afraid  he's  going  about 
now  to  punch  everybody's  head,  as  he  said  he 
wiiuld— just  because  he  feels  so  sorry  for  me. 
I  do  wish  I  could  see  him. 

Little  Rosette's  thoughts  were  interrupted 
by  a  knock  at  the  door.  It  was  a  servant  who 
informed  her  that  Mrs.  Pattiirson  wished  to 
see  her  in  her  room.  Upon  this  Rosette  gave 
one  look  at  herself  in  the  glass,  in  order  to 
efface  any  further  traces  of  tears,  and  theu 
went  out. 

It  was  mamma's  room.  She  was  seated  in  a 
big  arm-chair,  partly  for  comfort,  partly  also 
to  appear  with  greater  dignity  and  impres- 
siveness  before  the  culprit.  She  was  trying 
very  hai'd  to  be  cool,  and  calm,  and  judicial, 
but  without  success;  for  there  was  a  cross, 
peevish  look  on  her  fat  face.  On  one  side  sat 
'Arriet,  cruel  and  severe;  on  the  other  sal 
Kitty,  looking  mild  and  rather  melancholy; 
while  in  the  rear  was  the  Countess,  who  had 
chosen  a  pos<ition  from  which  she  might  survey 
the  scene  to  the  best  advantage. 

The  mamma  cleared  her  throat. 

"  I've  sent  for  you,  miss,"  said  she,  "lust  an' 
foremost  to  give  you  warnin',  and  immejit 
dismiss;  an'  also  to  give  my  reasons  for  so 
doin',  an'  as  these  ladies  'av  ben  afeard  I'd  go 
it  too  sliarp,  an'  be  too  'ot  an'  'eavy,  I'm  a  golu' 
to  try  to  be  as  mild  as  milk,  though  goodness 


62 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


knows  you're  enough  to  wez  the  piitience  of  a 
Job,  which  I'm  not;  so  fust  an'  foremost  I'm 
done  with  you." 

"  Thnnk  you,"  said  Rosette,  politely,  as  the 
tnaoimn  paused  to  take  breath. 

She  had  been  stauding  there  before  the 
mamma,  closely  watched  by  all,  who  regarded 
her  with  varied  feelings.  In  spite  of  her  care, 
her  eyes  still  sliowed  traces  of  weeping  on  the 
eyelids,  that  shone  x)ink  under  the  long,  dark 
sweeping  eyelashes,  and  in  the  melancholy 
that  lay  in  her  eyes.  Slie stood  with  her  sweet 
face  turned  toward  lliem,  in  an  attitude  of 
perfect  ease,  and  well-bred  grace,  and  self- 
possession.  'Arriet  looked  at  lier  with  severity 
unrelenting;  Kitty  watclii'd  her  witli  a  puz- 
zled face;  the  Countess  regarded  her  in  utter 
admiration.  For  the  Countess  had  come  to 
the  conclusion  that  little  Rosette,  in  the  role 
of  injured  innocence  and  sweet  simplicity,  was 
simply  sublime,  and  the  greatest  actress  living 
upon  earth.  And  to  have  gained  that  peculinr 
quality  which  Rosette  seemed  to  use  so  lightly, 
the  Countess  would  have  given  all  that  she 
owned  in  the  world,  and  tliought  it  well  paid 
out. 

"  I  want  to  have  a  solemn  word  with  you, 
young  woman,  about  your  evil  doons,"  pro- 
ceeded the  mammi;  "but  most  of  all  about 
your  enticin'  ways  with  the  gentlemen,  that 
I  warned  you  agin',  when  fust  you  sot  foot  in 
thisfambly." 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  Rosette,  "  but  you  are 
quite  mistaken." 

"I  ain't." 

'•  I'm  sure  I  never  did  any  thingof  the  kind ; 
so  you  see  you  must  be  mistaken." 

"I  tell  you  I  ain't,  and  you  did,  an' you 
know  it.    May  as  well  say  I'm  a  liar." 

Rosette  looked  away  at  the  other  ladies  with 
a  glance  of  mute  despair,  mingled  with  resig- 
nation, as  if  to  say:  "  Must  I  put  up  with  all 
this?  Will  none  of  you  speak  for  me?"  But 
she  only  gave  a  little  sigh  and  relapsed  into 
■ilenoe. 

"  Yes,  you  did,"  continued  the  mamma. 
"Didn't  I  see  it  all  the  time,  adecoratin'  of 
yourself,  an'  a  trickin'  of  yourself  out  like  a 
rovin'  gipsy— all  curls,  an'  ribbings,  an'  fuss 
an*  feathers;  a  makin'  eyes  at  every  body,  an' 
»  droriuk  of  all  the  gentlemen  arter  you,  to 


make  blessed  fools  of  theirselves;  an'agettin' 
of  them  to  pay  you  attentions  that  no  girl 
with  proper  modesty  and  self-respex  could 
ever  abide." 

She  is  so  dreadfully  unladylike,  thouglit 
Rosette,  tluit  one  cannot  possil)ly  do  any- 
thing with  her.  One  might  as  well  talk  to  a 
stone  wall. 

"I don't  think  lever,  in  all  my  life,  was  so 
talked  to  before,"  said  Rosetle,  speaking  in  a 
general  way.  "  I  wisli  I  oould  make  you  un- 
derstand how  very,  very  Tparticularly  rtis- 
aKrecal)Ie  this  is.  And  I  should  very  inu(!h 
ratlicr  not  have  you  talk  in  tluit  wry  odious 
way." 

"  It  ain't  ejus;  it's  tlie  truth,  an'  you  know- 
it— a  bold,  biazen  faced  liMZzy,  a-goin'  about 
a  breakink  hup  the  peace  of  virtoos  fam- 
blies." 

Rosette  threw  a  glance  of  surprise  all  round. 

"An'  never  knowed  your  dooty— not  a  mite. 
Wust  maid,  the  very  wustest,  I  ever  saw;  did 
notliinlc  but  make  bold  eyes  at  the  gentlemen, 
an'  aggerawate  your  missus  most  to  death." 

It  is  worsethfintlie  police,  thought  Rosetle. 
It  seemed  useless  to  say  anything.  But  slie 
mildly  remarked : 

"  Excuse  me,  you  are  very  much  mistaken." 

"  I  tell  you  I  ain't— not  a  bit!" 

"I  l)eg  your  pardon,"  said  Rosette,  "but 
you  really  are,  and  will  find  out  uome  day." 

"You  don't  beg  my  parding,  an'  you  know 
you  don't— a-stundin'  tliere,  with  j'our  baby 
face,  an'  a-lookiii'  as  if  butter  wouldn't  melt 
in  youi- mouth;  an'  then  a-sayin'  that  you — 
beg— my— parding!  Parding,  indeed!  Why 
don't  you  down  on  your  knees,  an'  ax  parding 
for  your  bold,  wiclted  ways,  you  wicked 
huzzy?  An'  mind  you,  that's  why  you  go.  1 
won't  give  you  a  character.  If  you  refer  any- 
body to  me,  I'll  say  Rosette  is  a  bold,  bad,  low 
(treetur,  that  I  had  to  pack  off,  'cos  I  was 
afeared  my  darter'd  be  harmed  by  sociatink 
with  sech  a  low  creetur." 

All  present  found  this  scene  too  painful.  The 
contrast  between  the  two  was  too  much.  Ro- 
sette was  a  little  lady.  The  mamma  looked 
and  talked  like  some  angry,  drunken  fish  wife. 
Even  'Arriet  felt  this,  and  was  ashamed  of  her 
mother.  The  Countess  felt  that  the  require- 
ments of  art  should  make  this  scene  end  Just 


L 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


53 


L 


here;  while  Kitty  felt  all  her  sympathy  rising 
up  in  behalf  of  Rosette. 

'•Mrs.  Pattersou,"  said  she,  "pray  excuse 
me,  but  I  think  that  you  are  too  harsh,  and  I 
must  remonstrate." 

"Harsh!"  exclnimed  the  old  lady.  "Oh, 
barsh,  is  it?  Haisli !  Harsh  indeed ;  arter  this 
here  huzzy's  beu  a-beguilin'  an'  a-bamboozliu' 
my  pore  ole  Billy  till  he's  that  far  gone  that  he 
doosu't  kuow  whether  'e's  on  'is  'ead  or  'is 
'eels,  an'  spends  all  'is  time  a-sfletitink  reli- 
gious tracts  to  give  to  'er,  nu'  talkink  to  me 
about  tryink  to  make  'er  a  member  of  our 
Body— 'er!  a  artful,  designink  puss,  as  would 
roon  hany  Body— an'  so,  young  woman,  you 
may  pack,  nu'  good  riddance,  an'  go  off  out  of 
this,  anywhars- go  off  to  your  dear  friend, 
Mr.  Smithers.  'E  brung  you  'ere,  an'  'e'U  see 
about  you  for  the  footer." 

All  this  stung  Rosette  to  the  quick,  and  her 
whole  soul  rose  up  in  resentment.  She  deter- 
mined to  administer  a  severe  rebuke.  And  so 
this  is  what  she  said,  speaking  with  much  em- 
phasis : 

"Some  people  would  call  this  vcru  unlady- 
like behavior,  indeed." 

And  that  remark,  in  little  Rosette's  opinion, 
was  almost  cruelly  severe,  and  only  excusable 
from  the  greatness  of  the  insult. 

But  the  old  lady  did  not  seem  to  mind  it. 

"  Pooh!"  siitd  she.  "  What  are  you?  You're 
only  a  lady's  maid.  What  do  you  know  about 
ladies?" 

Rosette  still  tried  to  be  severe  and  caustic. 
.  "It  would  be  well,"  said  she,  in  the  same 
tone,  and  thinking  this  time  to  crush  the 
mamma;  "it  would  be  well  if  some  people 
would  only  try  to  be  as  lady-like  as  other  peo- 
ple that  they  ttiink  are  their  maids." 

And  then  having  fired  off  tliat  shot.  Rosette 
felt  amazed  at  her  own  boldness.  She  was  so 
gentle,  and  it  was  so  hard  for  her  to  be  other- 
wise. 

"That!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Patterson,  snap- 
ping her  fingers  in  her  vulgarest  manner  al- 
most in  Rosette's  face;  "that!  for  you  and 
your  ladies!  Who  air  you,  any  way?  You 
ain't  nothink,  you  ain't.  I  could  buy  up  ten 
thousand  creeturs  like  you." 

"  Excuse  ine,"  said  Rosette,  "  I'm  afraid  you 
would  find  it  bard,  with  all  your  money,  to 


buy  up  even  one" — this  much  with  a  little 
thrill  of  proper  pride— "and  you  are  an  aw- 
fully rude  person ;  and  1  think  you  ought  to 
know  better;  and  I  assure  you  I  would  never 
have  consented  to  come  here  if  I  had  known 
thai  I  should  be  treated  in  so  unladylike  a 
manner." 

"A  lady— lady  again?  Bah!  what  do  you 
know  about  ladies?" 

"I  am  a  lady,"  said  Rosette,  with  dignity, 
wireless  now  about  her  secret. 

"Pooh!  a  lady's  maid,  you  mean." 

"I  am  not  a  lady's  maid.  You  saw  yourself 
that  I  knew  nothing  of  that  sort  of  thing.  I 
am  a  lady.  My  papa  is  a  gentleman.  1  belong 
to  one  of  the  best  families  in  Englnud.  All  my 
people  are  gentry." 

"Don't  believe  it— all  nonsense,"  snapped 
Mrs.  PattiTson.  "What  did  you  come  here 
for?" 

"  It  was  a  very  unwise  thing,  but  it  was  the 
fault  of  Mr.  Smithers.  At  the  same  time,  he 
meant  well." 

"Oh.  Mr.  Smithers!"  said  the  old  lady.  "  Oh, 
he  meant  well— oh,  yes— and  what  did  he 
mean?  Come,  now,  let's  see  how  long  you  can 
keep  this  hup." 

Rosette,  by  this  time,  had  become  so  thor- 
ouglily  provoked,  that  she  oared  not  to  conceal 
anything. 

"  He  sent  me  here  under  an  assumed  name 
and  character  to  keep  me  concealed." 

"  Concealed  ?  Oh— ah— h'm!"  said  Mrs.  Pat- 
terson, in  her  most  insulting  manner.  "And 
what  for?  to  conceal  you  from  your  friends?" 

Rosette  was  looking  at  the  other  ladies,  and 
taking  no  further  notice  of  the  mamma. 

"He  sent  me  hero  in  this  way  to  keep  me 
concealed  from  the  police,"  said  she.  "  I  men- 
tion this  to  you  ladies,  so  that  I  may  free  my- 
self from  all  suspicion.  He  did  it  for  the  best; 
but  it  has  been  verj-,  veiy  painful  to  me— so 
painful,  that  I  do  not  wish  to  be  concealed 
from  the  police  any  longer." 

At  this  unexpected  revelation,  there  was'a 
dead  silence.  'Arriet  looked  thun<ler8truok; 
Kitty  looked  shocked  and  amazed,  yet  full  of 
pity;  the  Countess  gave  a  start,  and  fro>tncd 
slightly,  after  which  she  regarded  Rosette 
with  a  new  and  very  peculia;  interest  indeed, 
as  though  this  discovery  had  suddenly  invested 


( 


54 


THE  BABES  IN  THE  WOOD. 


<: 


i  ; 


ber  with  an  uiiusunl  iinportaneo  iu  lier  eyes. 

But  the  silenco  was  broken  by  the  old  hicly. 
After  a  few  moments  of  speechless  horror,  she 
started  to  her  feet  with  something  like  a 
Boream. 

*'  The  police!"  she  cried.  "  Hiding  from  the 
police!  under  a  false  name,  and  in  my  house! 
Seize  her!  She's  a  convfot!  Turn  lier  out. 
Send  for  a  policeman !" 

But  'Arriet  sprang  up  and  made  her  mother 
stop  abruptly,  by  the  summary  jjrocess  of  put- 
ting her  hand  over  the  mamma's  mouth.  At 
which  the  old  lady  sat  down  blubbering. 

'Arriet  then  turned  to  Rosette. 

"May  I  ask,"  she  said,  with  some  civility  of 
manner,  "how  wo  are  to  know  that  this  is 
true?" 

"I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  saying  what  is  not 
true,"  said  Rosette,  hauglitily.  "  If  you  do  not 
trust  a  liidy's  word,  however,  yoti  may  ask  Mr. 
Smlthers." 

"Tliank  you,"  said  'Arriet,  "and  will  you 
allow  me  to  ask  you  one  fuither  question — 
for  my  own  satisfaction — that  is,  if  you  have  no 
obj^•ction,  would  you  tell  us  your  name?" 

"My  name,"  said  Rosette,  "is  Merivale. 
Have  you  ever  heard  of  Sir  Eugene  Merivale, 
of  Berks.    He  is  my  papa." 

At  this  astounding  piece  of  information  the 
mamma  sat  staring,  like  one  stupefied  by  a 
sudden  shock.  'Arriet  looked  frightened, 
Kitty  half  started  to  her  feet,  and  tlien  sank 
back  in  her  chair.  The  Countess'  face  flushed, 
her  eyes  glowed  briglit  witli  intense  excite- 
mett,  and  she  murmured  to  herself,  in  alow 
voice :    "  Merivale  t   Diavolo  /" 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

IfGINTY  ANNOUNCES  HIS  OWN  DEATB. 

And  In  what  a  wretched  stale  be  tries 
To  plunge  the  hapless  Kitty  1 

McGinty's  position  gradually  grew  intolera- 
ble, and  every  day  he  drew  nearer  to  utter  des- 
peration. Desperate  diseases  require  desper- 
ate remedies,  and  so  at  lengtli  ho  resolved  to 
strike  a  final  blow,  which,  as  he  expressed  it, 
would  either  kill  or  cure. 

The  next  day  he  waited  upon  Kitty.  Gloom 
was  on  his  brow.    His  eyes  were  lowered.    His 


manner  was  sepulchral.  He  sighed  frequent- 
ly. He  did  not  speak,  but  pressed  her  hand  in 
silence. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Smlthers,  how  awfully  you  look. 
Something's  happened.  Oh,  tell  me.  I  never 
was  so  f  riglitened  in  ail  my  life." 

MeGinty  sighed,  and  taking  a  seat,  sat  with 
bowed  head,  the  image  of  despair. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Smlthers,  how  can  you  have  the 
heart  to  sit  there  looking  so  owl-like,  and  keep 
mo  in  utter  torment  and  suspense?  Tell  me. 
Oil,  tell  me  all." 

"I  dare  not,"  said  McGinty,  with  a  groan. 

"Dare  not?  Oh,  tell  me.  You  must.  Is  it 
anything  so  very  absolutely  terrific?" 

"  I  cannot." 

"  But  you  must,  vou  know;  so  oh,  pray  do 
make  haste." 

"  Can  you  bear  it?"  he  inquired. 

"How  ean  I  tell  whether  I  can  or  not,  till  1 
know  what  it  is?" 

MeGinty  drew  a  long  breath.  Then,  raising 
liis  eyes,  lie  regarded  her  witli  a  solemn  gaze, 
and  said : 

"  You  wanted  to  hear  from  MeGinty?" 

"  Of  course  I  do — and  if  you  haven't  brouglit 
mo  a  letter,  I  m  ill  never  forgive  you  as  long  as 
Hive." 

MeGinty  siglied. 

"You  will  never  hear  from  him  again,"  said 
he,  in  a  dismal  tone. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Smlthers!"  cried  Kitty,  clasping 
lier  liands,  "  what  in  tlie  world  can  j-ou  ])o$si- 
blymean?  Do  you  mean  tiiat  Mr.  MeGinty 
lias  gone  and  become  a  Reiiublican  conspira- 
tor?" 

"  No,"  siiid  MeGinty.    "  Worse  than  that." 

"JIas  he  gene  mad  ?" 

"Worse  than  even  that" 

"Oh,  dear!  WI13'  don't  you  tell  me?"  said 
Kitty,  "  when  you  know  I  am  always  sostupid 
at  guessing  things.  Has  he  changed  bis 
name?" 

"No,"  said  MeGinty,  with  a  start. 

"  Has  he  caught  tlie  small  pox?" 

At  tills  question  MeGinty  felt  as  though  he 
were  turned  to  stone.  It  was  so  horribly  ab- 
rupt. It  was  asked  in  such  a  nialter-of-faot 
tone.  He  liad  intended  to  lead  up  the  conver- 
sation to  this  very  point,  by  slow  degrees,  and 
very  cautiously ;  but  when  it  was  forced  out 


'■m 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


55 


J  frequcut- 

1 

her  liand  in 

T  you  look. 

e.    I  never 

it,  sat  with 

II  have  the 

6,  niid  keep 

'1 

)?    Tell  me. 

a  groan. 

uust.    Is  it 

?" 

)h,  pray  do 

not,  till  1 

len,  raising 

emn  gnze, 

ity?" 

I't  brought 

as  long  as 

!aiu,"  said 

,  clasping 

jou  i)os9i- 

McGinly 

consijira- 

n  that." 

ue?"   said 

V 

i  80  Stupid 

i 

nged    bis 

i 

hnugh  he 
ribly  ab- 
er-of-faot 
le  oonver- 
n  ees,  and 
need  out 


thus  suddenly,  be  was  quite  unprepared,  and 
recoiled  in  terror  and  dismay. 

*'  What  makes  you  ask  that?"  he  said,  in  a 
hollow  voice. 

"  Why,  because  I  thought  of  it.  You've  had 
it,  you  know,  and  I've  often  thought  that,  if  it 
weren't  for  that,  you'd  be  the  most  awfully 
conoeited  man  tiuit  ever  lived  in  all  the  world. 
You  must  have  been  awfully  handsome " 

"Handsome!"  thouglit  McGiiity.  "Apollo. 
Antinous,  Hermes— type  of  manly  beauty. 
Little  doesshe  t  liiuk— all  me !  How  cm  "  r  j  on  ?" 

"Oh,  Mr.  Smithers!  why— oli!  wliy  are  you 
silent?  It  is— it  is— it  must  be— my  McGinty 
has  the  small  pox!  Oh!  oh!  oh!  oh!  oli!  oli! 
When  he  used  to  be  so  awfully  vain,  and  spent 
nearly  all  tlie  time  before  the  looking-glass. 
Oil!  oh!  what  will  become  of  him?  lie  will 
blow  his  brains  out!  Oh!  lie  was  so  conceited!" 

McGinty  writhed  under  this.  It  was  hard — 
Very  hard— 7ie  conceited?  He  could  repel  the 
unjust  imputation  with  scorn.  But  the  effect 
on  Kitty  gave  him  something  else  to  think  of. 
Her  tiorror  at  the  idea  of  small  pox  seemed  to 
confirm  his  worst  fears.  It  was  all  up.  He 
must  not  allow  her  to  dwell  on  this  idea.  lie 
retreated  now  at  once  from  telling  the  truth, 
at  least  for  the  present,  and  tried  to  get  up 
something  else. 

"It  -it's  not  quite  that,"  said  he;  "not— the 
, sum-sum-all-pox,  you  know!"  he  stammered. 

"Not  the  small  pox?"  said  Kitty.  "Tlien  lie 
must  have  gone  and  fallen  in  love  with  some 
other  woman,  and  run  away  with  her— some 
one  like  Rosette.  Oh!  I  know  it.  He  had  an 
awful  fancy  for  that  style.  Oli,  I've  dreaded 
this  a  thousand  times  a  day,  and  I've  thouglit 
of  it  a  thousand  thousand  times  over,  and  over, 
and  over,  and  I've  made  up  my  mind  that  if  he 
overran  away  with  anybody  and  got  married, 
I  would  never  forgive  him  as  long  as  I  lived— 
that  is,  if  it  was  a  woman." 

This,  also,  was  very  unpleasant  to  McGinty, 
and  grated  on  his  soul.  He  hastened  to  draw 
Kitty  away  from  this  fancy. 

"It  isn't  tliat,"  Bald  ho 

"Not  that!" 

"No.   Worse!" 

"Worse?" 

"  Yes-he's-he'B-he'sdeadl"  said  McGinty, 
in  on  awful  voioe. 


At  this  Kitty  stared  for  a  moment  at  him, 
and  then  bowed  her  head.  She  drew  her  hand- 
kerchief and  covered  her  face,  and  turned 
away.  McGinty  looked  on  in  dismay.  He  saw 
her  slender,  graceful  figure  all  shaken  with 
convulsive  emotion.  Ho  longed  to  soothe  her, 
to  take  her  in  his  arms— to  tell  her  all.  Ho 
dared  not. 

At  last,  Kitty  started  to  her  feet,  and  rushed 
wildly  out  of  the  room. 

"Wretch  that  1  am.  Villain!  Mlsoreantl" 
muttered  McGinty.  "  1  was  too  abrupt.  It 
was  too  hard.  It's  au  awful  blow.  She'll 
never  get  over  it.  The  eiid  of  it  all  is,  I'll  have 
to  blow  my  brains  out." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

MoGINTY  PBOXOCNCE9  TIIS  OWN  FUNERAI<  DIS- 
COURSE. 

Here's  n  thing  to  make  one  laugh, 
Mao  indites  bis  epitaph. 

McCtnty  wandered  about,  plunged  in  the 
depths  of  gloom,  in  anxious  suspense,  dread- 
ing the  worst,  and  toward  evening  dropped  in 
again.  He  sent  a  note  to  Kitty,  earnestly  ask- 
ing her  to  see  him,  and  enclosing  another  let- 
ter, written  in  back  band,  and  purporting  to 
be  from  an  imaginary  friend  in  Naples,  which 
gave  a  business-like  account  of  the  sudden 
illness  and  death  of  McGiuty. 

Kitty  sent  word  that  she  would  be  down  in 
a  few  minutes,  and  McGinty  was  full  of  hope 
and  gratitude  for  such  a  mark  of  kindness  and 
confidence.  Before  long  she  made  her  appear- 
ance. It  was  evening,  and  he  could  not  see 
whether  there  was  any  very  great  change  in 
her  appearance.  Repressed  her  hand  in  silence, 
and  she  said  nothing.  They  then  sat  down, 
and  McGinty  began  to  try  to  think  of  some 
speech  of  general  condolence. 

"  I  hope  you  will  excuse  me,"  said  Kitty,  at 
length,  in  n  low  voice,  "  for  appearing  in  this 
dress;  but  I  have  not  bad  time  to  get  mourn- 
ing, and  besides,  I  believe,  after  all,  I  am  not 
expected  to  wear  it." 

These  remarks  grated  on  McQinty's  soul. 
They  seemed  heartless.    Yet  he  knew  she  was 


56 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


not,  and  tbU  mailH  liiin  fear  tliut  hur  miud  wiis 
affected. 

"  I  dou't  kuow,  I'm  sure,"  aaid  he.  And  then 
Kitty  bowed  her  head  nnd  put  her  handker- 
chief to  her  face.  McGinty  could  sco  that  a 
shudder  rau  tlirough  Iter.  Ah!  lie  thought, 
that  s?utle  heart  will  not  readily  recover  from 
tliis.  It  has  been  too  mucli— too  uiucli.  I 
must  try  to  soothe  her. 

*'  Well,"  said  he,  in  a  deep,  hoUou',  sepul- 
chral voice,  which  he  had  fashioned  upon  the 
holy  tone  of  a  revered  clersymau  whom  he 
had  kuowu  in  his  youth;  "  ueil,  our  dear 
McGinty  is  gone;  but  we  must  try  to  feel  as 
though  we  would  not  wis^h  hiui  back  if  we 
could.    His  loss  is  our  gain." 

At  this,  another  sliudder  passed  through 
poor  Kitty,  and  quite  convulsed  her. 

McGinty  went  on: 

"  He  was  my  friend,"  said  he.  "  I  shall  al- 
ways revere  his  memory.  As  handsome  as 
Apollo,  wltli  the  symmetrical  figure  of  an 
Antinous,  and  the  grace  of  a  Hermes,  I  never 
have  met  with  the  man  that  was  the  equal, 
physically,  of  our  departed  friend.  And  yet, 
his  great  personal  advantages  never  spoiled 
him.  As  unconscious  of  tliese  as  a  child,  he 
had  all  a  child's  unfettered  ease  and  grace.  In 
character,  he  was  even  better.  Generous  to  a 
fault;  brave;  chivalrous;  admired  by  men, 
and  adored  by  women— such  was  McGinty.  In- 
telleotually,  also,  he  was  rarely  endowed.  He 
was  the  life  of  every  circle,  the  soul  of  every 
gathering.  I've  often  and  often  thought  to 
myself  of  the  future  tliat  lay  before  that 
man. 

"  •  McGinty,  my  boy,'  I  used  to  say,  '  McGin- 
ty, there's  not  your  equal  living.  You  must 
go  into  Parliament.  Tliat's  the  place  for  you. 
Your  knowledge  of  mankind,  your  genius  for 
debate,  your  genial  and  popular  manner,  your 
gentlemanly  breeding,  and  your  wonderful 
administrative  ability,  all  point  you  out  as  one 
who  could  rise  to  the  topmost  summit  of 
greatness,  and  be  facile  princeps  among  the 
first  statesmen  of  the  age.' " 

While  McGinty  had  thus  been  indulging  in 
thia  faint  tribute  to  departed  worth,  the  agita- 
tion of  Kitty  was  growing  more  and  more 
evident.  She  trembled  violently.  The  oon- 
TulsiouB  were  more  frequent.    She  pressed  her 


hantlkercliief  closer  and  closer  to  her  face.  nu;l 
to  her  mouth,  to  hide  her  tears  and  to  stiflo 
her  cries.  In  vain.  Her  emotions  were  too 
strong  for  her,  possibly:  as  he  reached  the 
close,  they  swept  suddenly  away  beyond  all 
control. 

"Oh,  I  can't  stand  it!"  she  cried.  "It's  too 
much!"  She  started  to  her  feet.  She  buist 
into  a  peal  of  laughter— loud,  long,  merry, 
inusiciil— peal  after  peal.  She  staggered  with 
faltering  steps  to  tiie  door.  She  rushed  out. 
and  tlie  horrified  McGinty  heard  her  laugh 
ringing  along  the  corridor. 

lie  stood  the  picture  of  despair. 

"Hysterical,"  ho  murmured.  "Oh,  Kitty! 
darling  Kitty!  what  a  wretcli  am  I!" 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

MiQINTT  BIDS  AN    ETERNAL  FABEWEIX. 

Bids  good-bye  forevermoro, 
Then  cornea  calhng  as  before. 

The  following  day  McGinty  found  Kitty 
calmer.  She  met  him  with  a  sedate  and  de- 
mure face,  greeted  him  languidly,  and  in  a 
low  voice,  apologized  to  him  for  her  agitation 
on  the  preceding  day,  assuring  him  that  it  was 
uncontrollable. 

"Say  no  more,"  said  McGinty.  "I  under- 
stand. I  was  to  blame.  1  shall  never  forgive 
myself." 

"  I  have  read  that  letter,"  said  Kifty,  after  a 
pause.  "  I  suppose  you  will  go  at  once  to  Na- 
ples?" 

"To  Naples?" 

McGinty  looked  surprised. 

"Yes,"  said  Kitty,  dolefully,  "to  perform 
the  last  acts  of  friendship." 

McGinty  looiced  embarrassed. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  to  tell  the  truth,  I  was  not 
thinking  of  going  there— that  is,  not  just  yet." 

"Not  just  yet?  Why,  when  can  you  go?" 
asked  Kitty,  in  a  tone  of  mournful  reproach. 

"Well,  yon  see,"  said  McGinty,  "my  duty 
seems  to  keep  me  here." 

"Duty  ?  Why,  what  possible  duty  cnn  be  equal 
to  that  which  is  owing  to  the  departed  ?  That 
is  a  thousand  thousand  times  mori  pressing 
than  any  other." 

"  Well,  you  see,"  said  MoGinty,  "  I'm  very 


I 


THE  BABES  IN  THE  WOOD. 


57 


peouliiirly  situated.  I  don't  exactly  like  to 
leave  you  just  now,  in  this  hour  of  grief,  and  I 
feel  like  following  the  Bible  doctrine,  'Let  the 
dead  buiy  their  dead.'  " 

"I  do  really  think,"  said  Kitty,  "that  that 
ia  the  awfullest  thing  I  ever  heard  said  in  all 
my  life." 

"  But  I  feel  that  you  need  consolation,"  said 
McGinty,  in  an  apologetic  tone;  "and  we've 
been  so  much  together,  and  known  so  much 
about  one  another,  that  I  thought  I  could  be 
able  to— to— to  .soothe  your  sorrows,  and— and 
—but  then,  again,  I  couUlu't  bring  myself  to 
go  r.way ;  it  would  be  so  lonely." 

"Lonely?" 

"Yes— away  from  you!" 

"Why.  would  you  miss  me  so  very  much?" 
said  Kitty,  in  a  mournful  voice. 

"Awfully,"  said  McGinty;  "and,  besides,  I 
should  seem  a  recreant,  not  only  to  you,  but 
to  the— the— the  departed,  you  know.  He  sent 
me  to  take  Ciire  of  you,  and  watch  over  you, 
and  be  in  his  place  till  he  came:  and  if  I  were 
to  leave  you,  you  know,  it  would  seem  like 
betraying  a  trust,  and  being  a  traitor  to  my 
noble  friend.  Why,  his  ghost  would  haunt 
me." 

"I'm  su  -e,  Mr.  Smithera,"  said  Kitty,  "I  feel 
very  much  obliged,  indeed,  and  I  never  met 
with  so  attentive  a  person  as  you  in  all  my  life; 
but,  at  the  same  time,  under  present  circum- 
stances, it  stands  to  reason  that " 

"Tliat  what?"  asked  McGinty,  anxiously,  as 
she  hesitated. 

"Well,  you  know,  I  neant  it  stands  to  rea- 
son that  you  can't  take  care  of  me  now,  and 
watch  over  nie,  and  follow  me,  and  all  that." 

"I  don't  see  why,"  wailed  McGinty,  as  his 
soul  plunged  down  into  despair. 

"Don't  see  wliy?'  repeated  Kitty,' in  sur- 
prise. "I  do  think  that  is  the  most  extraor- 
dinary thing  I  ever  heard.  How  can  you  pos- 
sibly watch  over  me,  and  take  care  of  me, 
when  T  have  to  go  back  to  poor  dear  aunty's?" 

McGinty  trembled. 

"Oh,  Miss  Kinnear!  Oh,  Kitty!  Oh,  my 
dear!  Oh,  don't,  don't,  don't  go  back  to  your 
aunt's.  Stay  here.  Let  me  lake  care  of  you  a 
little  while  longer." 

"Why  this  is  perfectly  preposterous,"  said 
^tty.    "  I  can't  imagine  what  you  mean  I" 


"Oh,  Kitty !  can't  you  understand  me? 

"  Really,  Mr.  Smithers,  I  can't  form  even  the 
faintest  possible  ray  of  the  most  distant  con- 
ception of  what  you  mean." 

"Oh,  Kitty!  forgive  me.  I  love  you  so.  Be 
mine.  Oil,  let  me  take  the  place  of  McGinty! 
Let  me  have  you  always  by  my  side!" 

And  with  these  words,  which  poured  from 
him  impetuously  and  irresistibly,  the  wretch- 
ed McGinty  flung  himself  on  his  knees  at 
Kitty's  feet,  and  tried  to  take  her  hand. 

Kitty  let  him  take  her  hand. 

She  sat  there,  and  raised  her  face  and  her 
eyes  toward  the  ceiling. 

"This  is  friglitful!"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice; 
"it  is  simply  friglitful!  Oh,  liow  perfectly 
awful— and  for  yon !  Why,  I  never  heard  any- 
thingso  utterly  terriUc  in  ail  my  life!  Why, 
it's  wicked!  And  you  of  all  men,  Mr.  Suiith- 
crs!  And  before  poor,  dear  Mr.  McGinty  is 
in  his  grave.  And  when  I  trusted  you  so. 
Why,  it's  enough  to  bring  him  back  to  life 
again!" 

At  this  Kitty  gently  withdrew  her  hand 
from  McGinty,  wlio,  by-the-way,  had  been 
kissing  it  some  dozens  of  times,  and  said : 

"This  scene  has  been  so  i)ainful,  Mr.  Smith- 
ers, that  you  will  have  to  excuse  me  just 
now." 

Mi'Ginty  gave  her  an  imploring  look.  She 
was  excessively  agitated.  She  buried  her  face 
in  lier  handkerchief. 

"Will  you  bid  me  farewell?"  said  he,  in  a 
sepuiclirnl  voice.    "  One  last,  long  farewell?" 

Kitty  was  silent. 

"Once— only— Kitty— darling  Kitty!"  said 
McGinty,  trembling  from  head  to  foot;  "once 
only !  Let  nie  bid  you  an  eternal  farewell — 
will  you?" 

Kitty  sighed. 

McGinty  ventured  nearer.  He  took  her  in 
his  arms.  He  bent  down  over  her,  and  press- 
ing her  close  in  his  embrace,  he  gave  her  a 
long,  convulsive  kiss. 

Then  he  sighed. 

"Farewell,  forever!"  said  he. 

"Farewell,  forever!"  said  Kitty,  in  alow 
voice.  She  moved  away  to  the  door.  Then 
she  turned  and  looked  back.  He  was  still 
standing  on  the  same  spot  where  she  bad  left 
him. 


i 


58 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


♦•  Well,"  siild  she,  iu  her  uaiiul  tone,  "  I  sup- 
pose I  siinll  see  you  to-morrow  ?" 

"Oil,  yea,"  said  McGiuty. 

Whereupon  Kitty  went  to  hei-  room,  fliins 
herself  on  her  bed,  iiud  laughed  till  her  head 
oohed. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

HERKTHIS  STORY  EXTEHS  UPON  A  THEMENDOirS 
SERIES  OF  CATASTROPnES  WHICH  ARE  UN- 
SQUALLED  IN  MODERN  FICTION. 

Decils  o(  darkness,  fetters,  chnins, 
And  the  torture  chamber's  pains. 

It  was  about  noon  on  the  following  day  a 
close  carriage  drove  up  to  tlio  house  where  the 
Pattersons  lodged,  and  stopped  at  the  door.  It 
was  a  peculiar  looking  can  iage— sombre,  not 
exactly  shabby,  but  very  dusty— not  exactly 
theoarriiigeof  a  public  fuuetioiuiry,  yet  cer- 
tain public  ofUtials  were  coiinecled  with  it, 
for  on  the  bo.x  was  a  gen-d'arme,  and  behind 
were  two  others.  Moreover,  when  the  car- 
riage stopped,  the  gen-darmes  descended,  and 
one  of  them  opened  the  door  and  let  down  the 
steps,  and  thei-e  emerged  two  individuals  of 
sombre  appearance,  one  of  whom  looked  like 
a  retired  nnilertaker,  while  the  other  seemed 
likeaperson  who  mi^ihtbeapolicemagistrate. 
All  of  which  cheerful  crowd  entered  tlie  house 
and  ascending  to  the  upper  floor,  called  for 
Meestalr  Pnttasone. 

Who  appeared  with  a  scar  on  his  forehead, 
just  between  the  eyes,  and  a  badly  swollen 
nose,  which  nose  rapidly  turned  from  red  to 
white,  as  did  the  rest  of  the  face,  when  he 
looked  upon  his  unwholesome  visitors.  For 
they  were  nil  redolent  of  the  law— and  the  law 
on  the  Continent  of  Europe,  and  particularly 
in  Rome,  was  at  that  time  a  thing  of  awe  un- 
speakable to  the  average  Britisher. 

This  average  Britisher  was  by  no  means  re- 
assured at  the  words  which  weie  spoken. 

The  Retired  Undertaker  did  the  talking,  al- 
ways referring,  however,  to  the  Functionary 
of  dismal  dye  already  mentioned  as  half  Eeele- 
siastio  and  half  Police  Magistrate.  The  Re- 
tired Undertaker,  in  fact,  seemed  to  be  Inter- 
preter to  the  other,  and  to  gain  his  honest  but 
laborious  livelihood  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow, 


wrung  out  by  hard  labor  of  tlie  braiu,  in  per- 
petual  exercises  at  translating  viva  voce  from 
the  Italian  into  other  languages,  and  back 
again. 

Which  Retired  Undertaker,  directed  by  the 
Functiotuiry, proceeded  toask  thepnpaanum- 
her  of  minute  questions — as  to  his  name,  resi- 
dence, business,  motive  iu  coming  to  Italy, 
time  of  slay  in  Rome;  whetlier  he  was  mar- 
ried ;  age  of  self  and  wife;  birth  place  of  wife; 
number  of  children,  names  of  children;  wlielh- 
er  lie  had  any  f  rieuds  iu  Rome,  or  in  other 
parts  of  Italy;  tuunes  of  frieiuls,  ngea,  callings, 
rank  in  life;  whether  married  or  single;  to- 
gether with  others  too  numerous  to  mention. 

Such  matter  of  fact  questions  us  these  about 
the  ordiiuuy  affairs  of  life  gradually  restored 
to  the  frightened  papa  his  presence  of  mind 
and  his  ordinary  instincts;  and  being  of  a 
strong  business  turn,  as  the  ruling  passion  re- 
vived witliin  him,  he  sought  to  turn  this  inter- 
view to  his  own  advantage,  and  tlierefore  en- 
deavored to  interweave  with  the  answers  to 
these  questions  valuable  information  as  to  the 
exeelleiiees  ,of  the  Patent  Medicines  with 
wliich  his  name  was  conneeted.  He  had  al- 
ready come  to  the  conclusion  tliat  these  visi- 
tors of  forbidding  ospeet  were  simple  census 
takers,  or  Inspectors  General  of  Travelers, 
and  was  devising  some  way  of  turning  this  in- 
terview to  account  in  an  advertising  way, 
when  the  conversation  took  a  new  turn,  which 
once  more  plunged  the  good  papa  into  the 
depths  of  gloom. 

The  Retired  Undertaker,  after  a  prolonged 
converse  witli  the  Functionary,  turned  to 
the  papa,  and  spoke  tlie  following: 

"  Now,  see  here.  Mr.  Patterson,  it  is  plain 
that  you  are  talking  round  the  question,  and 
are  endeavoring  to  lead  the  conversation  to 
irrelevant  things,  like  Pills  and  Doctor's  Pow- 
ders. But  I  must  make  you  understand  that 
we  are  not  men  to  be  trifled  with.  This  sig- 
ner, is  his  Excellency,  the  Prefect  of  the  Muni- 
cipal Police,  before  whom  important  informa- 
tion has  been  laid,  which  he  has  come  forth  to 
investigate  and  to  act  upon.  You  are  seri- 
ously implicated  in  a  charge  of  a  very  grave 
character,  and  if  you  have  any  regard  for 
your  liberty  you  will  answer  our  questions 
directly,  without  any  further  allusions  toirrel- 


•*;ii 


THE  BABES  IN  TUB   WOOD. 


89 


I 


«viiut  luattera.  These  times  me  perilous,  mid 
no  one  cativi'iituro  to  triflo  witli  tiio  Muui- 
ciiml  Poliff." 

Now,  tlint  was  a  very  pretty  speecli  for  a 
Retired  [Jiidertaker,  and  for  an  Italian— good 
plain  English— tenil)ly  plain— so  plain  tliat  the 
venerable  papa  found  himself  oollai)aing. 

What  words  were  those  whioh  ho  had  hoard! 

IIo  was  confronted  with  a!i  offleiul  of  the 
most  ex;ilted  charaeter,  no  less  than  his  Excel- 
lency file  Prefect  of  the  Municipal  Police. 
The  Police!  The  Municipal  Police!  Awful, 
tremendous  thought.  His  youth  liad  been 
spent  in  readings  which  liad  leferenco  to  the 
tyr.iuny  of  foreign  despots  and  the  glories  of 
Britannia,  llis  later  years  liad  been  taken 
up  with  rampant  Radicalism,  which  liad  be- 
come his  Religion,  and  whicsli  had  led  him  to 
regard  the  free  Britain  as  the  first  of  created 
beings,  and  all  foreigners,  witliout  exception, 
as  degraded  slaves.  To  him  the  Police  of  a 
foreign  state  was  the  sum  ana  substance  of  all 
human  iuiquity,  and  the  very  word  was  a  word 
of  horror,  associated  with  all  that  is  most 
frightful  to  the  human  imagination. 

The  blood  of  the  aged  papa  seemed  to  freeze 
ill  llis  veins— his  heart  seemed  to  stop  beating 
-ills  hair  liristled-his  knees  smote  together, 
and  his  tongue  adhered  to  the  roof  of  his 
mouth,  IIo  was  like  a  boy  in  the  presence  of 
Old  Bogie. 

Therefore  it  was  that  the  faculties  of  the 
veuerable  papa,  never  very  l)rilliant,  now  for 
a  time  utterly  deserted  him;  and  while  the 
Retired  Undertaker  discoursed  to  him  about  tli  i' 
benefits  of  frankness,  he  scarcely  understood 
a  word  of  wliat  was  said  to  him,  but  sat  trem- 
bling, staring,  a  dumb,  inarticulate  papa. 

Having  reached  this  stage  of  prostration,  he 
awaited  tlie  next  questioning. 

"Information  of  a  sei-ious  nature  has  been 
handed  in  against  you,"  said  the  Retired 
Undertaker;  "you  are  implicated  in  a  serious 
offense  against  the  laws." 

At  this,  Patterson  sent  his  memory  out  on  a 
wild  career  over  the  Past,  but  could  think  of 
nothing  that  mightbe construed  into  an  offense 
against  any  laws,  except  his  getting  knocsked 
down  by  Fred,  and  that  was  nn  offense  which 
be  had  not  luflicted,  but  suffered. 

"  If,  as  wo  suppose,  you  have  any  confed- 


erates," continued  the  Retired  One,  "associates, 
correspondents,  or  othurwiae,  it  will  be  best 
for  you  to  tell  at  once,  so  as  to  save  further 
trouble  to  yourself  and  us." 

This  only  served  to  deepen  tlie  mystery,  for  it 
showed  that  no  iiossiblc  reference  was  made  to 
his  quarrel  with  Fred.  It  must  be  Bomething 
t^lso  altogether,  whicli  might  thus  lead  to  ques- 
tions about  confederates  and  correspondents. 

"At  the  same  time,"  continued  the  Retired 
One,  "you  must  lie  informed  tluvt  for  some 
time  past  you  liave  been  under  surveillance, 
and  that  certain  words  and  acts  of  yours  havd 
been  reported." 

This  made  it  more  mysterious  than  ever. 
Patterson  tried  to  recollect  whether  ho  had 
been  indulging  in  any  counterbliista  against 
foieign  tyranny  of  late,  but  could  not  call 
them  to  mind.  Ills  last  one  had  been  neai 
Spoleto,  and  had  been  checked  by  Fred.  The 
consciousness  of  innocence  gave  him  a  feelliiR 
of  great  relief,  and  he  l)cgan  to  indulge  n 
treml>ling  hope  tiiat  he  might  yet  emerge  from 
the  darkness  of  his  present  despair. 

The  Retired  One  now  called  upon  bim  to 
make  his  confession. 

"  I— I  ain't  got  nothink  to  confess,  sir,"  said 
the  papa,  very  tremulously.  "  I— I  never  said 
nothink  against  the  government.  I  can  prove 
it." 

"  Take  care!"  said  the  Retired  One. 

"  I  can  prove  it,"  continued  the  papa;  "  and 
I'll  take  my  davy  afore  the  British  Hambas- 
sador." 

At  this  there  was  some  conversation  between 
the  Retired  One  and  the  Prefect  of  the  Munici- 
pal Police,  after  which  the  former  returned  to 
the  charge,  and  fired  off  the  following: 

"His  Excellency  here  wishes  me  to  give  you 
warning  that  this  visitation  is  authoritative. 
You  will,  therefore,  answer  with  candor  and 
fullness.  Above  all,  he  wishes  me  to  warn  you 
against  any  foolish  confidence  in  the  protec- 
tion of  your  ambassador.  Those  who  violate 
Roman  law  must  come  under  Roman  jurisdic- 
tion, and  be  tried  under  such  law,  and  be  pun- 
ished in  case  of  conviction.  British  insolence, 
British  prejudice,  and  British  swagger  will 
only  injure  you." 

It  was  a  beautiful  thing  to  see  the  faoo,  atti- 
tude, expression  and  mien  of  the  papa,  as  be 


60 


THE  BABES  IN  TUE  WOOD. 


l\ 


was  thus  wnrned ngalnat  indulgiiiK  in  "British 
awnggur."  IIu  stood  tliere  in  u  state  of  col- 
lapge,  Ilia  jaw  fallen,  hia  eyea  wandering 
round  from  one  to  another  in  helpless  appeal- 
while  on  his  face  there  was  a  mixture  of  ser- 
vility, obsequiousness,  apprehension,  horror, 
and  deadly  fright. 

"Come  now,"'  said  the  Retired  Oi'e,  "answer 
one  question — where  is  Merivale?" 

"Merivalel"  Patterson  repeated  the  name 
in  a  wondering  way. 

"Yea." 

-'I  don't  know,"  said  he  helplessly. 

"  You  had  better  telJ  all,"  said  the  Tletired 
One. 

"B— b— but  how  kik— kik— can  I  tell  when  I 
did— did— don't  know  hanythink  at— at  all 
about  Mm?" 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE  HAMMA  AT  BAY— nEARDING  THE  LION— 
THE  PBEFECT  OF  THE  MCNICIPAL  POLirE  IS 
NONPLUSSED. 

Goodness  1  lawk  a  muasy  me  I 
What  d'ye  want  with  my  Blllyf 

The  Functionary  at  length  found  out  this : 
that  if  he  wished  to  obtain  information  tiiey 
oould  not  elicit  it  from  Sigiior  Pattasino.  lie 
grew  more  and  more  helpless  every  minute. 
The  dread  shadow  of  the  Police  was  over  his 
eoul,  and  he  seemed  already  to  be  tasting  of 
the  bitterness  of  death. 

At  first  the  Prefect  attributed  this  to  the 
cunning  of  a  guilty  accomplice;  all  his  trem- 
bling, all  his  agitation,  and  all  bis  iucoherency, 
were  regarded  as  so  many  very  transparent 
devices  to  mislead  or  baffle  them.  As  a  conse- 
quence he  was  liberal  in  the  outlay  of  means  to 
frighten  him  into  a  confession.  All  the  thun- 
ders of  the  tribunals  of  justice  were  therefore 
brandished  over  him,  and  launched  m  fury 
upon  his  miserable  head.  The  Interpreter's 
English  lacked  something  of  the  sonorous 
power  of  the  Prefect's  Italian  maledictions, 
yet  its  effect  upon  the  hapless  Pattasino  was 
so  withering  that  the  Prefect  had  every  reason 
to  feel  satisfied  that  it  had  reached  tlie  mark, 
and  that  hia  words  had  not  returned  to  him 
void.  For  in  the  end  he  perceived  that  the 
terror  could  not  be  counterfeited,  but  was  ao 
real  tliat  all  sense  bad  fled  away. 


The  Prefect,  however,  had  come  with  a  pur- 
pose, and  he  was  not  willing  to  no  until  he  hud 
exhausted  every  mode  of  investigation.  In- 
formation had  been  given  him  against  this 
family,  and  he  lioped  to  find  out  something 
from  some  one  of  its  members.  After  oon- 
aulting  a  paper  for  a  time,  he  aent  the  Inter- 
preter to  summon  the  Signora. 

In  due  time  the  mamma  made  her  appear- 
ance. It  was  evident  that  the  Interpreter  had 
conveyed  Ids  invitation  to  her  in  such  a  way 
that  she  had  no  idea  of  the  true  nature  of  the 
case,  but  had  some  idea  of  entertaining  some 
public  functionary  who  had  come  out  of  civil- 
ity or  respect.  All  thia  was  on  her  face  as  she 
entered,  for  there  waa  an  attempt  at  dignity, 
tempered  by  a  gracious  desire  to  do  the  agree- 
able. She  smiled  around  on  all  the  company, 
and  then  said : 

"Deeply  honored,  gents  all;  an'  much  hobli- 
gated  ^or  the  Tionor  of  this  call,  and  if  I  can 
do  hany  think  for  any  of  you,  aay  the  word." 

But  as  her  beaming  eye  roved  about  the 
room,  it  auddenly  rested  upon  the  figure  of  her 
husband.  He  had  sunk  into  a  chair,  in  which 
he  sat  overwhelmed,  with  a  white  face  of 
terror,  looking  like  one  who  had  seen  a  ;:host. 
The  mamma  gave  aery  and  hurried  to  ward  liiin. 

"Why,  Billy!"  she  cried.  "Billy!  why, 
Billy!  what's  the  matter?" 

The  papa  gave  a  groan. 

"  Are  you  faint  ?  'Ave  you  'ad  a  bad  turn  ? 
Let  me  get  some  gin.  Oh,  Billy,  what  ever 
'ave  come  over  you  ?" 

The  suspicion  suddenly  occurred  that  these 
visitors  had  been  the  eauae,  and  ahe  threw  a 
hasty  look  around,  which  was  by  no  means  ao 
friendly  aa  it  had  been  a  minute  befoiv.  She 
then  went  to  a  closet  where  she  found  a  blaifk 
bottle,  out  of  which  she  poured  aome  liquid 
for  her  husband.  He  took  it  with  a  trembling 
band,  and  swallowed  it,  the  mamma  soothing 
him  gently  and  affectionately,  and  plying  him 
with  questions  as  to  his  health.  The  papa 
seemed  to  regain  a  little  of  his  composure,  and 
sat  up  straighter  in  his  chair,  but  the  awe  of 
the  Police  was  atill  on  him,  and  he  refuaed  to 
tell  his  wife  what  had  brought  him  to  grief, 
and  only  hinted  that  he  had  not  got  over  the 
effect  of  yeaterday'a  accident. 

And  now  the  Interpreter  requested  the  mam- 


mu  with  a  piir- 
KO  until  lioliud 
eatigatioii.  lu- 
im  agaiust  this 
out  Boinething 
irs.  Aftor  con- 
sent the  luter- 


le  her  ni)[)('nr- 
Jiterproter  had 
in  such  a  way 
I  nature  of  tlio 
ertaininf?  some 
ne  out  of  fivil- 
her  faoe  ns  she 
opt  at  dignity, 
o  do  the  [Xf^vee- 
.  the  company, 


■>'  . 


in'  much  hobli- 
.11,  and  if  I  can 
lay  the  word." 
ved  about  the 
heflguri'of  her 
chair,  in  whicJi 
white  fiico  of 
id  seen  a  ^host. 
led  toward  liiiD. 
"Billy!     why. 


ad  a  had  turn  ? 
illy,  what  nvcr 

red  that  those 
ind  she  tlirew  a 
jy  no  means  so 
te  before.  Slie 
3  found  a  bla(;k 
id  some  liquid 
ith  atrenibliufr 
imma  soothiiiR 
and  plying  him 
1th.  The  papa 
composure,  and 
,  but  tlie  awe  of 
l1  he  refused  to 
t  him  to  grief, 
ot  got  over  the 


nested  the  mam- 


TUE  HAUKS  m  THE   WOOD. 


Gl 


■L 


t4 


& 


mil  to  kIvi!  Iifi-  iittoiitioii.  Tlic  mamiiHi  ac- 
conlinirly  »i'iitt'tl  liiTself  bfitldo  liti'  Imslmml, 
bolilliiK  M*  IiuihI  ill  a iJiottu-tliiK  way,  an  i lioiiuli 
ffariiiK  fnrtluT  lianii  for  liim. 
■  "8i)iiic»ia,"  Kiid  tlio Intel  prcttT,  In  "lint  was 
^iwiiit  to  1x1  Ills  most  liiiprtis'slvi)  inaiiiier, 
f'iUU  U  His  Exfcllciiuy.  tlin  Pnft'ct  of  tin- 
JMuuicipal  I'ollw,  and  ho  lia^i  coino  to  iiivcstl- 
gixUi  otTtalii  uliiiiKt'3  wliicli  liavf  been  made 
H^aliist  tills  family.  Wo  wish  you  to  aiixwcr 
'inily  and  honi'slly  all  tliat  yon  know.  To 
iili  (SO  who  fonfi'^'*,  wi'know  how  to  bo  nuTfi- 
ful,  but  to  thos(^  who  arc  oliduraU',  wo  <'aii  bo 
•cvfie.  Do  not  hope  to  trill'  Willi  us,  but  .111- 
,»wcr  honestly,  not  only  for  your  own  sake, 
'  lait  for  tho  sake!  of  your  husband  also." 

Whllo  tho  Intt'ipritcr  had  lu'cn  spiakiii'; 
tlicso  words,  tlio  »'fftH!t  upon  tho  maiiiiiia  was 
\(ry  pi'culiar.  At  tho  llrst  ultiraiu'i' of  that 
tlriMid  iiamo,  a  eiiango  enino  ovor  her.  Slio  sat 
erect;  her  hands  camo  togethur  with  a  tight 
clench;  her  oyes  grew  hard  and  steely;  her 
nostrils  swellod,  and  her  brow  pathered  into  a 
I  frown.  Her  reoeptiou  of  this  annoiineement 
was  tho  very  opposite  of  tho  papa's.  All  fem- 
inine softness  vanished ;  sliu  seemed  liko  n  she- 
wolf  guarding  her  young  against  the  npproaeh- 
;  ing  hunters. 

\     As  the  Interpreter  eeased,  the  mamma  slow- 
i  ly  rose  from  tho  chair,  stotxl  ereet  upon  her 
J?  feet,  fixed  her  eyes  upon   tho  Pn^feot  of  the 
J  Police,    threw   her   head    back,  put  one  foot 
before  the  other,  and  placed  her  arms  akimbo. 
The  sight  of  this  acted  upon  the  papa  liko  a 
coidial.  No  one  know  better  than  ho  did  Mhal 
"i  that  meant.    When  the  inammn  liad  taken  up 
,  that  position,  and  that  attitude,  and   put  on 
I  that  loolc,  it  meant  that  she  was  on  tho  war- 
path.   Hitherto  she  had  found  few  who  could 
face  her.    The   papa's  crushed  heart  swelled 
with  hope  and  confidence.    It  was  like  Andro- 
meda at  the  approach  of  Perseus,  or  tho  dis- 
tressed damsel  of  chivalry,  at  the  advent  of 
the  knight  errant. 

"So  that's  it,  is  it?"  she  began.  "Tho  Po- 
lice! the  Police!  an'  so  yeoati't  find  hnnythink 
better  to  do  than  to  come  au'  f  riken  a  pore  old 
body  like  my  Billy  with  yer  Police  Bugaboo! 
An'  now  that  ye'vo  got  here,  what  Is  it?  What 
do  you  want?  No  tomfoolery,  but  speak  hup- 
pandownd." 


To  this  the  Interpreter  responde  I  hya  warn- 
ing iiiid  a  eiiutiou,  and  then  dlrect<jd  her  to 
tell  all  that  she  knew. 

Tho  uiamnia  illd  not  look  at  the  Interpreter 
at  all,  but  kept  her  eyes  fixed  upon  I  he  Pi  elect. 
"TellallIkiiow,"slierepeated.  "Well.fnstau' 
foremoHl,  Iknow  liallabout  you  an' your  bloody 
Police  Toinfooleiics.  Thaidc  'Kving,  you  hain't 
got  no  power  overallinglishman— which  yo're 
all  a  pack  of  blood-suekers,  IiiiikI  Judas  Iscnr- 
iots,  an'  vampires— a-burnluk  of  pore  people 
alive  at  the  siaUe,  an'  a-lorl'rink  of  then  with 
melted  load.  Hut  mind  you,  you  hain't  got 
the  power  lo  touch  a  Illnglishinan.  Burn  up 
your  own  people,  luit  don't  come  a-fooliu' 
round  here.  An' so  ye  hadn't  nothink  better 
to  do  tliiHi  toconie 'eie,  an'  frikeii  my  Billy— 
ye  brimstone  luflliigs.  But  ye'vc;  got  Into  the 
wrong  shop  this  time— ye'vo  got  tho  wrong 
sow  by  the  hear.  Do  yc  think  I  care  for  the 
likes  of  yon?  Who  are  you,  any  way,  you 
nasty,  skinny  beast — you  ;lrled-up,  mean, 
dirty,  brimstone  pig  of  nPreflx!  For  two  pins 
I'd  shake  the  life  out  of  yon,  you  miserable 
vipej',  an'  make  your  withered  bones  rattle  in 
your  yaller-parclimenk  skin " 

Here  tho  Interpreter,  who  hail  vainly  tried 
to  stop  the  mamma  in  her  wild  fiight,  stamped 
fiercely  with  his  foot,  and  yelled  at  her  to  stop. 
The  mamma  did  stop  for  a  moment,  glowering 
at  him. 

"  Are  you  mad,  woman  ?"  ho  shouted.  "  Do 
you  mean  to  insult  his  Excellency  to  his  face? 
Do  you  want  to  bo  taken   to  prison?    Do " 

The  mamma  at  this  snapped  her  fingers  so 
close  under  tho  Interpreter's  nose,  that  he 
darted  back  as  though  avoiding  a  blow. 

"That!"  she  cried,  "for  you,  oiid  the  old 
Satan,  your  master;  insult  him?  Course  I  will. 
Ain't  allinglishman's  'ouse  his  castle?  What 
business  has  he  in  my 'ouse?  Arrest  me?  I'd 
liko  to  see  you  try  it.  Yes,"  she  continued, 
striding  up  to  the  Prefect  and  brandishing 
her  clenched  fist  in  his  face,  while  the  Pre- 
fect instinctively  retreated—"  yes,  you  lantern- 
jawed  old  brimstone  Satan,  for  two  pins  I'd 
fling  you  out  of  the  winder.  Arrest  mel 
P'r'aps  you'd  like  to  arrest  all  theHinglishmen 
in  Rome!  P'r'aps  you'd  like  to  arrest  'Is 
Hexcellency  the  Hinglisli  Hambassador!  P'r- 
'aps  you'd    like  to  take  possession  of  Hold 


62 


TUB  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


Hiiigliiiul,  an'  hnyreat  'it  Most  Unioioiis  Ma- 
jesty, Qiiwii  Vietoilii,  tlio  Prince  Consort,  Al- 
bert Priiu'f  of  Walis,  an' liall  the  Royal  Fumbly. 
Who  cart's  for  you!  You're  only  a  pack  of 
Bobbiea— none  of  ye's  equnl  to  a  Loudon  Bobby. 
Ha!  yon  old  Prcllx.  Ila!  would  ye.  Ila-a-ali! 
yePolicoViiKMs.  Ha,  PrclU!  Oli!  I'dlike  yc  to 
nrresi  lue.  yc  bloodsucUcrti— wouldn't  I  'ave  the 
IIingli!<li  Ilaiubassador  down  on  yi',  an'  the 
Hinglisli  liect  would  come  and  bombard  Rome, 
till  your  dungeons  tumbled  about  yer  cars. 
Fetch  along  yer  Prelixes  and  Bobbies.  Bring 
'em  nlong,  all  of  "cm!  Who  cares  for  'em! 
Who  cares  for  you!  who  cares  for  I lu' whole 
beggarly  town,  half  in  roons.  That  for  your 
brimstone  Police!" 

During  tli'.-i,  Iho  iiosilion  of  tiie  Prefect  was, 
to  say  tlie  K-ast,  embarrassing.  He  had  no  ac- 
tual charge  against  the  mamma.  He  had  come 
simply  to  investigate,  and  was  not  pn'pared 
for  a  scene  like  this.  But  to  havo  this  virago 
howling  at  him,  and  brandishing  a  huge  list  in 
unpleasant  proximity  to  his  face,  was  certain- 
ly hard.  The  unhappy  Prefect  did  not  wish  to 
api)ear  frightened  at  a  woman,  and  therefore 
could  not  call  upon  his  geu-darmes.  to  save 
him;  while  the  geii-darmes  could  not  move 
till  they  had  orders.  The  consequence  was 
that  tlie  Prefect  retieated  slowly,  step  by  step. 
Step  by  step,  however,  the  furious  mamnni 
followed  him  up.  But  this  sort  of  thing  could 
not  go  on  forever;  and  at  length  the  Prefeiit's 
further  retreat  was  terminated  by  tlio  wall  of 
the  room,  against  which  lie  was  brought  up  all 
standing.  And  there  he  remained,  while  the 
mamma,  with  her  (1st  brushing  against  his 
nose,  or  her  lingers  un[)leasantly  snapping 
against  it,  continued  her  wild  harangue. 


CHAPTER  XXri 

AWFUL  DOINGS— A  UnAVK  FIGHT. 

Son  thn  British  inntron  stand, 
Grappling  with  n  hustilo  baud. 

But  the  Interpreter  could  staiul  it  no  Ioniser. 
His  zeal  for  his  master  outran  his  usual  subor- 
dination; and  as  the  unhappy  Prefect  stood 
with  his  head  against  the  wall,  and  his  nose 
rubbed  by  tho  fist  of  the  raainmn,  the  Inter- 
preter came  to  his  relief.  A  wave  of  bis  baud, 
a  few  worda  to  'the  gen-dariues,  aud  the  mam- 


ma  was  seized  aiul  dragged  back,  struggling 
aiul  storming  in  vain. 

This  gave  tlm  Prefect  a  chance  to  recover 
his  usual  calm,  aud  regain  his  lost  dignity. 
Once  more,  then,  tho  Interpreter  returned  to 
the  charge,  and  as  soon  as  hi-  could  make  him- 
self heard,  addressed  the  nntmma. 

"  All  this  will  be  t  he  Avorse  for  you.  You  and 
your  husband  are  now  under  arrest.  You  are 
suspected.  These  evasions  and  this  violence 
will  only  make  it  worse  for  you.  It  is  known 
that  you  are  the  assoeiati-s  and  confederates  of 
an  T^iUglisli  Milor— Sir  Eugene  Merivale.  He 
has  escaped,  and  is  hiding.  His  daughter  has 
been  secreted  under  your  care,  in  this  house. 
You  will  see,  then,  that  denial  is  useless,  and 
evasion  impossible,  and  that  your  only  hope 
lies  in  a  full  confession." 

This  produced  a  very  sti'ong  effect  upon  the 
mamma.  It  showed  her  at  once  that  the  whole 
difficulty  had  arisen  out  of  Rosette;  and,  if 
possible,  increased  the  deep  hatred  which  she 
already  cheiished  toward  her.  It  sliowed  her, 
also,  a  way  by  which  she  migiit  not  only  throw 
suspicion  away  from  her  "Billy"  upon  the 
one  to  wlioiu  it  properly  belonged,  but  also 
bring  to  condign  i)unislinient  tliat  "ejus 
minx"  herself. 

The  consequence  was,  therefore,  ihot  the 
mamma's  feelings  inulerwent  a  fresh  revolu- 
tion, and  changed  from  a  bold  defiance  of  the 
police,  to  an  eager  desire  for  the  arrest  of 
Rosette, 

"Indeed,  then,"  said  she,  "an"  may  it  please 
yoi  gracious  worship,  I  knows  lu)  more  ol  'im 
than  a  babe  unborned— which  'is  darter  came 
to  bus  in  disguise— an'  is  now  in  this  "ouse,  an' 
is  the  ony  one  as  can  tell  'is  whereabouts;  an' 
me  an'  Billy  'ere  never  knowed  nolldnk  about 
'em  afore  this  darter  came  'ere  with  'er  aiis 
and  graces,  a  disguisink  of  'erself— nn'  she's 
'ere  yet,  though  about  to  leave  and  go  away, 
an'  can  b"  brought  back  'ere  in  a  momlnt." 

Some  further  conversation  followed,  and,  nt 
length,  the  nuiinma  offered  to  go  awuy  and 
bring  Rosette.  The  others  assented.  The 
mamma  went  off  on  her  amiable  errand,  and 
two  soldiers  stood  outside,  awaiting  her  return. 
No  sooner  had  she  retired  than  the  papa  was 
arrested  at  the  command  of  the  Prefect  and 
oouveyed  away.    Terror  rendered  him  dumb, 


^1 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


63 


i,  strii!r<;lliig 

3  to  ret'over 

lost  divinity, 

lotuiiieil  to 

1  iiiako  him- 

u.  You  nnd 
St.  You  nre 
his  violence 
It  is  known 
if»'(ienitesof 
I'livnlc.  IIi> 
iiufihter  1ms 
this  houso. 
useless,  nnd 
r  only  hope 

'ft  upon  the 
it  the  whole 
tte;  and,  if 
d  whieh  she 
ihowed  her, 
only  throw 
'  upon  the 
■d,  but  also 
that    "ojus 

that    the 
sli  revolu- 
luee  of  the 
arrest  of 

y  it  please 

lore  oi  'im 

rter  oaino 

'oiise,  an' 

)oiits;  an' 

ink  about 

h  'er  airs 

nn'  slie's 

Ro  away, 

•mint." 

d.  and,  at 

iwi.y  and 

ed.      The 

and, nnd 

T  return. 

papa  wns 

feet  and 

n  dumb, 


Lnd  almost  Incapable  of  motion,  and  in  Ih'd 
Itate  ho  was  taken  to  his  awful  dostinatiou. 

It  was  not  very  lou}r  before  the  mamma  ro- 
iurnud  alouR  with  Rosette.  The  latter  alone 
Vas  allowed  to  enter.  The  two  gen-darmes 
kept  the  mamma  bauk,  and  the  door  was 
<j^lused  iu  her  face. 

tl  Upon  this  the  mamma  grew  violent,  and 
■^ied  to  foree  her  way  iu.  Thereupon  the 
pwo  geu-darmea  seized  hej,  and  draftged  her 
'%y  miiiii  force  b:iek  into  an  Inner  room,  where 
jihey  committed  lier  to  the  charge  of  the  terri- 
l^ed  Kitty  and  the  horror-stricken  'Arriet. 
♦they  then  looked  the  door  and  returned  to 
ibeir  master. 


I  CHAPTER  XXIIl. 

VTTLE   nOSBTTK  AIIKK3TKI>    AND    IN  THE  HANDS 
OF  THE  POLJCB. 

liiickloss  Roslo,  here  we  are, 
Fastened  up  with  bolt  and  bar. 

RosKTTi:  entered  the  apartment  with  her 
sual  self-possession,  and  calmly  surveyed  the 
uipauy.  She  was  still  dressed  iu  the  cos- 
tume in  whieh  she  had  come  to  the  house, 
nnd  which,  to  those  present,  was  of  course  the 
disguise  of  a  fugitive.  But  those  present  were 
.evidently  surprised  at  her  appearance,  since 
It  was  different  from  what  they  had  antici- 
pated. For  the  daughter  of  a  mini  who  had 
t)eeu  denounced  as  a  dangerous  conspirator, 
<ind  who  herself  had  fled  in  disguise,  had 
■eemed  to  them  to  be  of  qui  (o  another  order 
fi'om  the  little  being  of  grace  and  delicate 
laould  that  now  stood  before  I  hem.  Rosette's 
fyes  wandered  from  one  to  the  other,  over  all 
Jf  them,  until  finally  they  rested  oil  thePie- 
illjpot,  whom  she  decided  at  once  to  be  the  chief 
gtan  among  them.  After  whieh  she  seated 
ierself  on  the  chair  which  had  lately  held  the 
toUapsed  personality  of  the  papa. 

Tlie  Prefect  then  gave  some  directions  to 
ittie  Interpreter,  who  began : 
>f  "  This  is  His  Exoelleney  11  Conte  dl   Cerl- 
iosso." 
Rosette  bowed  very  pleasantly. 
"I  am  very  happy  to  make  your  acquaint- 


auoe,  Mr.  Cherryuose,"  said  she,  thinking  at 
the  same  time,  wliat  n  funny  name. 

'•  He  Is  the  Prefect  of  the  Municipal  Police, 
and  has  oome  to  Inquire  about  vertalu  Infor- 
mation relating  to  yourself,  and  also  to  Sig- 
ner, your  fattier." 

The  terrors  of  that  name  did  not  seem  to 
affect  Rosette  at  all.  She  caught  only  the  a>- 
lusion  to  her  father. 

"Oh!  I  am  so  glad,"  she  said.  "Now,  per- 
iiaps,  we  uuiy  be  able  to  talk  It  all  over,  and 
find  out  wliere  In  the  world  he  Is,  for  really, 
do  you  know,  I'm  beginning  to  feel  quite 
anxious  about  poor  dear  papa." 

"  He  is  your  father,  then?"  asked  the  Intei^ 
preter. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Rosette,  who  thought  it  a 
very  funny  question,  indeed;  just  as  If  any 
l)o<ly  else  could  be  her  papa,  nnd  it  struck  tier 
at  that  moment  that  Mr.  Cherrynose  looked 
just  like  Ilara  iu  an  old  Noah's  ark  that  she 
once  had,  and  tint  resemblance  was  so  absurd 
that  she  had  toi)uther  hand  before  her  mouth, 
and  cough  to  hide  a  smile,  for  she  didn't  want 
to  appear  rude. 

"And  your  name  Is  Rosetta  Merivale?" 

"No,  not  Rosetta— it  is  Rosette.  I  don't 
like  Rosetta  tit  all.    It's  too  prim." 

Upon  tills  the  Interpreter  talked  for  a  little 
while  with  the  Prefect,  who  appeared  satisfied 
with  this  ackiiowle'Iginent. 

"  As  you  acknowledge  yourself  to  be  Rosetta 
MerivaU " 

"Roselle,"  interrupted  she,  with  asmile,  and 
a  gesture  of  playful  warning. 

"Rosette  Merivale,"  said  the  Interpreter, 
adopting  the  coire<'tion,  "His  lixeelleucy  does 
not\>lsh  to  say  anymore  to  you  just  now. 
Uut  as  there  Is  a  serious  charge  against  you,  ii 
will  be  necessary  for  you  to  leave  this  house 
and  come  with  us— and  you  will  be  examined 
further  afterwards." 

At  tliis  Rosette  sprang  from  her  chair  to  her 
feet. 

"  Leave  this  house!"  she  exclaimed. 

"  I  am  sorry,  but  It  will  be  necessary." 

At  this  Rosette's  face  flushed  very  red,  and 
her  ey«'8  sparkled  with  joy. 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  very,  very  much  oltliged  to  you 
nil.  It  really  ispnrticiilnrly  goodin  you  tocome 
here  for  lue.    I  had  about  made  up  my  mind 


ll 


64 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


to  give  myself  up,  only  I  didn't  Iidow  bow  to 
go  II bout  it  quite,  and  now  it  will  be  all  so  nice. 
Aud  please,  am  I  to  stay  with  you?" 

At  tliia  last  question,  which  was  asked  in 
rather  an  anxious  tone,  Rosette  looked  inquir- 
ingly at  the  Prefect.  As  (he  Interpreter 
explained  this,  the  Prefect  looked  puzzled, 
and  seemed  not  to  know  what  to  make  of  it 
all. 

"  His  Excellency  assures  you,"  said  the  In- 
terpreter, "that  everything  will  depend  upon 
your  statements." 

'  "  Oh,  then,"  said  Rosette,  "I  shall  be  particu- 
larly careful  how  I  behave,  and  I'm  sure  you 
shall  have  no  fault  to  find  with  me,  if  I  can 
help  it!" 

This  answer  puzzled  the  Prefect  also.  It 
seemed  to  him  a  little  like  a  hint  that  she 
would  confess  nothing;  he  made  the  Interpre- 
ter say  it  all  over  a  seooud  time,  but  ilually 
gave  it  up,  and  then  took  a  long  stare  at  his 
captive.  Little  Rosettts  returned  his  stare 
with  a  timile;  slie  felt  very  well  disposed,  in- 
deed, toward  him.  After  her  experiences  at 
the  Pattersons'  these  seemed  like  true  friends, 
and  tlie  courteous  air  of  the  Prefect,  and  cere- 
monious language  of  the  Interpreter,  were 
very  pleasant  to  one  who  had  listened  to  the 
brutal  taunts  of  the  mamma.  So  she  sat  smil- 
ing very  pleasantly,  and  her  large  eyes  rested 
solemnly,  yet  very  amiably,  upon  the  Prefect, 
who  tried  to  read  in  them,  and  in  the  sweet, 
round  face,  something  of  that  cunning  whieh 
be  had  suspected.  But  little  Rosette's  face, 
like  ber  words,  remained  i  conundrum  in- 
Boluable.    He  gave  it  up. 

So  tlie  Prefect  rose  and  spoke  further  with 
the  Interpreter. 

"You  will  now  please  to  come  with  us,"  said 
he. 

"Now?  how  perfectly  lovely  I"  said  Rosette. 
"Shall  we  walk?" 

"Oh,  no— we  have  a  carriage,  and  you  are  to 
get  in." 

"  Oh,  thank  you  very  much.  I  hope  you 
have  not  put  yourself  out  too  much,  for  after 
all  I  can  really  walk  just  as  well— that  is."  she 
added,  "If  it  is  not  very  far." 

*'  Ob,  it  is  not  far,"  said  the  Interpreter, 
grimly,  "and  it  is  no  trouble  at  all." 

How  very  kind  they  are  to  me,  thought  Bo- 


sette.  How  I  wish  I  had  gone  to  them  first. 
But,  then,  bow  did  I  know?  How  foolish 
of  Mr.  Smitbers;  and  poor  Freddie,  how  de- 
lighted he'll  be.    Only  I  wish  be  was  going  too. 

With  these  very  pleiujaut  thoughts,  whiob 
threw  around  her  face  an  air  of  great  peace 
and  happiness,  little  Rosette  prepared  to  fol- 
low her  captors.  One  geu-darme  went  first; 
then  the  Prefect ;  then  two  gen-darmes,  aa 
though  to  guard  the  i)risoner;  and  last  of  all, 
the  Inteipreter.  Little  Rosette,  however,  re- 
mained altogether  unconscious  of  her  formid- 
al)le  guard,  aud  merely  thought  of  them  all 
as  friends  and  protectois. 

On  reaching  the  carriage,  the  first  gen-darme 
opened  the  door  and  stood  waiting.  The  Pre- 
feet  stood  looking  at  Rosette,  and  motioned 
witli  his  hand. 

"  Am  I  to  get  in  here?"  asked  Rosette. 
"  Thank  you,"  and  then  she  got  in.  The  Pre- 
fect followed,  and  last  tbe  Interpreter.  Then 
the  carriage  was  closed,  the  gen-darmes 
mounted  before  and  behind,  and  the  carriage 
drov(*  away  to  the  Prefecture  of  the  Police. 
People  in  the  streets  had  seen  the  carriage  and 
tie  fair  young  prisoner.  They  averted  their 
heads,  and  hastened  on.  Passers  by  saw  tbe 
carriage  as  it  drove  to  its  destination,  and 
pitied  the  victim  inside,  whoever  it  might  be. 
And  so  on  through  the  streets,  and  over  tbe 
PoTite  do  S'Angelo  to  tbe  other  side  of  the 
Tiber. 

Rosette  was  perfectly  happy,  aud  at  peace 
with  all  the  world. 

How  perfectly  lovely  this  is,  she  said  to 
herself ;  and  what  nice  people  the  Police  are, 
and  what  a  contrast  between  such  a  man  as 
Mr.  Cherrynose  and  that  dreadful  old  mau.  I 
dare  say  if  he  could  talk  English,  he'd  be  de- 
lightful. Why,  one  would  think  that  I  bad 
been  a  prisoner  in  the  Ogre's  Castle,  like  the 
princess  in  the  fairy  story,  and  that  I  did  have 
a  good  fairy,  after  all— aud  that  she  sent  these 
good,  kind,  nice  people,  and  this  nice  carriage, 
to  take  me  away  from  Ogre  Castle ;  and  then 
she  added,  in  ber  thoughts:  It  would  be  well 
if  some  people  were  not  so  much  like  ogres, 
and  more  like  ladies  and  gentlemen. 

At  length  the  carriage  stopped.  Tbe  door 
opened.  All  got  cut.  Rosette  looked  around 
with  a  bright  glance  of  interest  aud  curiosity. 


THE  BABES  IN  THE    WOOD. 


65 


them  first. 
How  foolish 
lie,  how  de- 
ns Koiug  too. 
iglits,  which 
great  peace 
iired  to  fol- 
went  first; 
i-dnrmes,  as 
\  last  of  all, 
lowever,  ro- 
ller formid- 
of  them  all 

it  gen-darme 
g.  The  Pre- 
d   motioned 

:ed   Rosette. 

I.    Tbo  Pre- 

reter.    Tlien 

pen-darmes 

the  onrringe 

'.  the  Police. 

can  iage  and 

verted  their 

by  saw  the 

nation,  and 

t  might  be. 

ud  over  the 

side  of  the 

ud  at  peace 

he  said  to 
Police  are, 

a  man  as 
old  man.  I 
he'd  be  de- 
that  I  had 
le,  like  the 
1 1  (lid  have 

sent  these 
oe  carriage, 

and  then 
lid  be  well 
like  ogres, 
I. 

The  door 
Ked  around 
I  curiosity. 


;  was  a  stone-paved  court  yard,  with  study 
lildiugs  around  it.  At  oue  end  was  a  eii  cii- 
liir  muss,  on  the  summit  of  wliicli  was  tlie 
•Ititue  of  ail  angel.  Some  people  would 
IWive  found  the  seeiie  «loo»iy,  l>ut  to  Rosette 
||  seiiiifd  to  be  the  paliieeof  the  Good  Fairy. 

A  sentinel  or  two  paced  about  here  and  then', 
a^d  upon  a  bench  near  a  doorway  some  sol- 
<|teis  off  guard  were  seiited.  Toward  tliis 
#>ortlie  Prefect  led  the  waj-,  and  the  Intel - 
^eter  asked  Rosette  to  follow.  At  tlieir  np- 
ll^oaeh,  the  soldiers  arose  and  gave  the  luiii- 
ti^iy  salute,  and  the  sentinel  presented  anus, 
lUl  of  whieli  seemed  to  Rosette  to  be  very 
jihitifying  and  compliineiitaiy. 
aKnlering  the  door  she  found  herself  in  a 
n>ne-|>avvd  liall,  with  doorways  on  each  side. 
IjtDre  soldiers  were  here,  all  of  whom  gii re  the 
liplitary  salute.  Passing  down  this  hall,  tliey 
wiie  to  a  winding  stairway  of  stone  itltlie 
iSpther  end.  up  whicli  the  Prefect  led  thew:iy. 
^M.tthe  tup  was  a  small  chamber,  from  whidi 
kn  a  narrow  {iiillery.  Down  this  they  passed, 
[was  lighted  here  and  tliere  by  a  t  wiuUling 
ip.  It  seemed  to  Rosette  to  extend  a  long 
itanoe.  At  length  they  readied  another 
jiirway  whicli  went  up  a  long  wiiy.  On 
Idling  the  top.  Rosette  found  hersi  If  in  a 
Ide  hull.  Soldiers  were  here.  also.  On  eiicli 
|e  were  doors.  Above  there  was  a  skylij^ht. 
jng  this  liiiU  the  Prefect  led  the  way,  the 
Hers  saluting  as  before,  until  he  readied  a 
[)r  at  the  end. '  Opeiiin;;  this,  he  entered  an 
Ite-ohamber.    Roselle  followed. 

woiniin  was  here,  who  bowed  very  low  as 
fcy  entered.  The  Prefect  addressed  some 
krds  to  her,  aud  as  they  were  in  Italian, 
Isette,  of  course,  did  not  undfrstiind  thfui. 
It  guessed,  very  naturally,  that  they  referred 
llierself. 

Che   Prefect   then  opened  a  door  and  dis- 
used a  room  with  one  window  and  an  iirdied 
piiuj;.    The  walls  were  colored  gray,  the  floor 
I  of  red  tiles,  with  one  or  two  mats.    There 
I  a  bed  and  somesiiniile  furniture, 
lere   the    Interpreter,   who  had    been    ac- 
]panying  them  all  along,  after  couTersiiifr 
111  the  Prefect,  turned  to  Rosette  and  said: 
'This  is  your  room,  and  this  woman  is  your 
pendant." 
What  a  sweet  little  room,"  said  Rosette, 


looking  aruiind  with  a  smile  of  delight;  "and 
what  a  pretty,  arched  ceiling,  and  wliat  a  C0.H7 
little  bed,  and  uliat  a  funny  iiillt>  wiiiduwl 
Oh,  I  am  ^o  very  much  obliged !  and  I  know  I 
shall  be  awfully  comfortable.  Dear  papa 
would  be  so  delighted  if  lie  only  kuew  wliere  I 
was." 

The  Interpreter  told  this  to  the  Prefect.  The 
Prefect  turned  these  words  over  in  his  mind, 
looking  hiird  at  Rosette.  Rosette  watched  him 
with  a  heiiiniiig  smile,  wishing  she  could  tell 
him  personally  how  kind  she  thought  him.  The 
uniiiippy  Prefect  found  this  another  un- 
answerable eonundriim,  and  gave  it  up. 

In  a  short  lime  Rosette  was  alone. 

First  of  all  she  went  to  the  window  and 
looked  down.  There  *vas  an  Iron  grating  out- 
side, but  she  did  not  notice  this.  She  could 
see  some  houses,  then  the  dome  of  u  great 
ehurch,  and  beyond  this  a  broiid  plain.  The- 
vli'W  seemed  to  her  very  pleasant  and  exten- 
sive. 

Then  she  looked  around  more  closely  at  her 
room.  Thirewasan  iron  bedstead  with  bed- 
ding, and  a  chair.  A  heavy  table  stood  in  ono 
eoiner.  It  did  not  seem  to  her  at  all  like  tha 
cell  of  a  prisoner;  it  .-eeined  rather  like  the 
secure  retreat  of  ono  who  had  escaped  from  an 
Ogre  Castle— like  a  place  of  refuge,  where  she 
was  guarded  from  all  pursuit,  and  protected 
from  all  chaiuje  of  recapture. 

They  are  certainly  very  respectful,  she 
thonglit.  How  all  those  soldiers  did  bow  I 
There  was  something  nneommonly  pleasant  in 
it— to  a  poor  little  thing  like  me,  that  has  been 
so  snulibed,  and  scolded,  and  contradicted, 
and  put  upon.  Oh,  why  did  I  ever  go  and  try 
to  be  a  lady's  maid  ? 

This  recollection  of  her  past  misfortunes 
drew  her  attention  to  that  part  of  her  attire 
which  was  associated  with  such  bitter  memo- 
ries. The  cap  and  apron  still  remained.  With 
a  quick  gesture  of  impatience  she  took  o£f 
both. 

"Tliere."  she  said,  holding  them  out,  one  in 
each  hand.  "  There  t  Good-bye,  Cap  and 
Apron.  You  don't  suit  me,  aud  I  don't  suit 
yon,  and  we  shall  never  be  able  to  agree,  and 
so  we  had  much  better  part.  1  forgive  you, 
and  I  promise  not  to  have  any  hard  feel- 
ings.   If  I  liave  to  live  among  strangers,  I'd 


^"**' 


THE  BABES  IN  THE  WOOD. 


V 


riitlier  go  without  you  than  with  you.  Good- 
l)ye." 

She  looked  at  tbeiia  for  a  moment,  niid  then 
rolled  them  up  very  tisht  into  a  little  bundle, 
iirouud  which  she  wound' the  npron  strings, 
l)indiui{  them  in  a  very  complii'iilcd  series  of 
knolii.  Uiiving  dont- Mils  ohe  luiked  nround, 
debating  what  to  do  with  it.  At 'longth  she 
ilecidt'd,  and  going  to  the  bed  she  raised  the 
mattress,  and  tueked  the  little  bundle  under- 
neutli,  and  out  of  sight. 

"  There  I  "  said  little  Rosette.  "  Out  of 
sight— out  of  mind  !" 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

BEFORE     THE     AWFUL     BAB. 

Thoughtless  Bosie,  here  you  be, 
Fixed  In  dark  captivity. 

On  the  following  day  the  Prefect  of  the 
Police  visited  Rosette,  together  with  the  In- 
terpreter, who  informed  her  that  her  presence 
was  required  in  the  Hall  of  the  Prefecture, 
where  the  Judges  of  the  Court  were  already  in 
session.  This  information  was  received  by 
Rosette  with  unfeigned  pleasure,  and  an  un- 
mistakable gratiBeation,  which  ouce  more 
proved  too  much  for  the  Prefect. 

"  Oil!  I  am  so  glad,"  said  she;  "and  now  we 
can  talk  it  all  over,  and  compare  notes,  and 
perhaps  we  may  be  able  to  come  to  some  con- 
clusion about  poor  papa.  What  I  want  most 
of  all  is  to  find  out  where  he  is,  so  as  to  write  j 
him  a  nice,  long  letter,  and  beg  him  to  come 
here." 

No  reply  was  made  to  this  except  in  the 
shape  of  a  question,  asking  if  she  was  ready. 
To  which  Rosette,  in  a  lively  way  (for  she  was 
overflowing  with  good  spirits)  replied  : 

"  Oh!  well  you  know  when  one  has  nothing 
to  put  on,  one  is  always  ready." 

So  the  Prefect  led  the  way,  and  Rosette  fol- 
lowed, and  the  Interpreter  came  next,  and 
then  came  a  half  dozen  soldiers,  armed  to  the 
teeth,  who  had  been  waiting  outside,  and 
who,  as  the  prisoner  came  forth,  followed  in 
her  train. 

On  the  way  Rosette's  thoughts  were  various. 
First  she  noticed  more  strongly  than  ever  the 
resemblance  of  the  Prefect  to  a  Noah's  ark 


man,  which  was  certainly  heigliteued  by  a 
rear«view  of  that  Functionary;  then  she  felt 
troubled  at  the  difficulty  of  keeping  ntep  with 
the  soldiers;  then  she  noticed  that  they  were 
going  in  a  different  direction  from  the  one 
by  which  she  had  come;  then  the  thought, 
wliat  a  pity  it  was  she  had  not  a  better  dress; 
then  she  wondered  wliether  they  would  let 
Freddie  come  to  see  her,  and  what  he  would 
say  if  he  found  her  in  such  a  place,  with  so 
many  soldiers  keeping  guard  over  her  when 
siie  was  iu  her  room,  and  salnt!'>,<?;  her  when 
she  left  it.  With  these  thoughts  and  many 
others  she  amused  herself,  until  at  length  they 
reached  the  Hall  of  the  Prefecture. 

This  Hall  of  the  Prefecture  liafl  one  feature 
about  it,  which  made  it  different  from  other 
halls.  It  was  not  designed  for  spectators.  No 
seats  were  set  apart  for  the  accommodation  of 
the  public.  It  was  intended  solely  for  t lie  re- 
ception of  the  Judges,  the  secretaries,  and  the 
prisoner,  or  prisoners.  The  first  glance  which 
Rosette  threw  around  showed  lier  this;  but 
the  discovery  was  only  gratifying  to  her,  for 
slie  preferred  not  having  any  spectators. 

It  was  a  hall  about  thirty  feet  square,  with  a 
stone-paved  floor,  and  vaulted  ceiling.  Four 
small  grated  windows  admitted  a  moderate 
light.  At  one  end,  on  a  raised  platform,  were 
seated  six  men.  They  were  all  dressed  in  official 
lobes,  and  were  all  elderly  men.  Below  these, 
on  the  floor,  was  a  table,  at  which  two  secre- 
taries were  seatetl,  with  writing  materials. 

On  the  right  of  the  Judges  was  a  sort  of 
bench  against  the  wall,  and  Rosette,  on  look- 
ing around,  perceived  that  this  was  the  only 
thing  iu  the  shape  of  a  seat  that  was  un- 
occupied, and  so,  with  that  cheerful  way  she 
had  of  making  the  best  of  everything,  she 
walked  toward  it. 

"May  I  sit  here,  please!  Oh,  thank  you," 
she  said,  and  seated  herself  on  the  bench. 

The  Judges  were  six  in  inimber.  They  were 
elderly  officials.  They  had  all  grown  gray  In 
the  service  of  tin-  Police.  The  secretaries  were 
also  elderly  officials,  who  had  grown  gray  in 
the  service  of  Die  Police.  They  had  all  seen 
people  of  all  ages,  sizes,  classes,  and  characters 
liefore  them  iu  this  Hall,  and  the  Hall  itself 
had  witnessed  many  a  singular  spectacle,  but, 
it  may  safely  be  said,  that  neither  any  of  the 


•" '  ■ •'•'•'-  ■""" 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


67 


igliteued  by  a 
;  ttien  she  felt 
piii^  ctep  with 
that  they  were 

from  thu  one 
I  the  thought, 
a  better  dress ; 
iey  would  let 
ivhat  he  would 

place,  with  bo 
over  lier  when 
it!»<K  her  when 
Its  and   many 

at  length  they 
lire. 

lad  one  feature 
eiit  from  other 
jpectators.  No 
oiiiraodation  of 
jlely  for  the  re- 
'taries,  and  the 
St  planoe  which 
I  her  tliis;  but 
ing  to  her,  for 
ipectatora. 
;  square,  with  a 
1  ceiling.    Four 

ed  a  moderate 

platform,  were 
ressed  in  oflacial 

.    Below  these, 

ieh  two  secre- 
materials. 
was  a  sort  of 
sette,  on  look- 
was  the  only 
tliiit  was  un- 
eerful  way  she 
verythiug,  she 

li,  thank  you," 
llie  bench. 
)er.  They  were 
grown  gray  in 
lecretaries  were 
firown  gray  in 
cy  had  all  seen 
and  chaiaetcrs 
the  Hal]  itself 
spectacle,  l)ut, 
her  any  of  tliu 


■fudges  and  Secretaries,  nor  even  the  old  Hall 
Itself,  had  ever  seen  before  that  Awful  Bar  a 
inore  self-possessed,  a  more  cheerful,  a  more 
imiable,  and  altogether  well  disposed  prisoner 
than  little  Rosette.  Slie  looked  around  witli 
4  plensant,  confidential  smile.  She  examined. 
One  by  one,  tlie  faces  of  the  aged  Judges,  and 
Wen  ?d  to  see  in  each  a  personal  friend;  and 
her  only  regret  was  tliat  slie  did  not  speak 
Raliiui  so  as  to  be  able  to  communicate  more 
Unreservedly  with  tliem. 

buth  a  sudden  apparition  as  little  Rosette 
ifroducedan  unwonted  sensatiou.  Each  one 
of  the  Judges  regarded  her  with  a  close 
l^utiny.  At  first  the  scrutiny  was  stern  and 
itnrching,  as  befitted  men  in  tlieir  position ;  yet 
«•  eacl»  gaze  lingered  on  the  face  of  little  Ro- 
■ttte,  there  seemed  to  be  so  mucli  sunlight 
there  that  the  coldness  of  judicial  scrutiny  was 
laaensibly  relaxed,  and  gave  to  something 
Kjore  human.  In  some,  tliis  more  human  feel- 
ing was  curiosity,  in  otliers,  wonder,  in  others, 
]p|ty  or  sympathy.  The  venerable  Chief,  a  man 
ifho  had  slowly  fossilized  in  tliis  chamber, 
■itemed  to  regard  this  astouisliing  prisoner 
t^lth  unwonted  emotion.  There  came  over  his 
Bird,  oflacial  features  a  gentler  expression ;  the 
fj^rows  of  his  face  seemed  to  fade  out.  It  was 
fl^hotigh  Rosette  had  come  like  spring  into 
t»  winter  of  old  age,  brin^iing  influences 
iipicli  melted,  and  softened,  and  mellowed  the 
tfosts  of  age,  aud  the  hardness  of  Judicial  se- 

#ity. 

Eiittle  Rosette  waited  modestly  for  a  short 
le  for  some  one  to  say  something,  and  as 
khiiig  was  said,  she  concluded  that  it  was 
Wif  duty  to  speak.  So  slie  spoke  out  in  an 
T,  unembanasseil  w;iy,  looking  toward  the 
lef. 

Jl'in  so  gla<l  you've  sent  for  me,  and  so 
^feful.  It  was  so  horrid  at  that  place— tlie 
Uersons',  j'ou  know— and  I'm  sure  you  will 
lk|nll  you  oan  to  try  and  bring  poor  papa  back 
limine.  My  only  regret  now  is  that  I  did  not 
Opne  here  at  once." 

*rtp.t  tliis  the  Interpreter  came  forward  and 
iMnslated  Rosette's  words  in  his  usual  solemn 
?ii|iy.  All  the  Judges  listened  with  deep  so- 
Iphnity.  Then  lliey  made  him  repeat  it.  Then 
tpty  all  sat  looking  mystified.  Then  they  all 
pked  together  in  a  low  voice.    Some  of  them 


frowned;  some  of  them  shook  their  beads; 
some  of  them  sat  back  and  plunged  themselves 
into  abysses  of  speculation.  It  was  quite  evi- 
dent that  none  of  them  could  quite  make  oufc 
wliat  the  words  meant.  In  any  one  else  they 
might  have  suspected  insanity;  in  certain 
cases  tliey  might  liave  imagined  irony  or  sar- 
casm; but  these  tilings  were  clearly  not  to  be 
thought  of  in  this  cawe. 

Then  they  motioned  to  the  Prefect,  who 
came  forward.  They  questioned  him.  He 
gave  the  result  of  hours  of  meditation  over 
little  Rosette's  words  and  ways.  One  view  of 
her  WHS  that  she  was  sincere  and  innocent, 
and  meant  wliat  slie  said;  but  to  an  Italian 
mind,  and  especially  to  tlie  mind  of  a  Polioe 
oflacial,  this  was  simply  incomprehensible.  It 
only  remained,  therefore,  to  regard  her  as  ex- 
ceedingly deep  in  a  certain  subtle  craft  and 
cunning,  as  one  endowed  with  an  unparalleled 
genius  for  deceit — who  spokc!  inexplicable  rid- 
dles, who  put  forth  sentences  of  unfathoma- 
ble meaning,  and  could  evade  tlie  closest  and 
most  direct  questions  by  means  of  answers  so 
artfully  worded,  that  the  questioner  oould 
make  notliing  out  of  them. 

Upon  wiiicli,  all  tlie  Judges  shook  their  aged 
heads  in  a  bewildered  way,  and  the  Chief  then 
addressed  himself  to  the  task  of  interrogating. 
This  consisted  of  a  rigid,  severe  and  minute 
examination,  which  was  carried  on  through 
the  medium  of  the  Interpreter.  This  person- 
age stood.  The  Judges  sat.  Rosette  kept  her 
seat,  though  the  Interpreter  hinted  that  she 
should  stand.    But  the  hint  was  not  taken. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?" 

"Well,  my  real  name  is  Rosette  Merlvale— 
not  Finch.  That  was  only  an  assumed  name, 
and  very  silly." 

"  How  old  are  you?" 

"Going  on  seventeen." 

"What  is  yonr  place  of  residence?" 

"Well,  you  know,  I'm  living  in  Rome  just 
now,  and  my  residence  is  in  this  building.  So 
you  know  as  much  as  I  do — in  fact,  more — for 
I'm  sure  I  have  no  idea  what  part  of  the  city 
this  building  is  in." 

Rosette  spolce  these  words  in  a  tone  of  can- 
dor, and  with  an  agreeable  smile — with  all  the 

air  of  one  who  fell  among  friends.    It  was  not 

•j 
lost  on  the  Judges,  who  themselves  were  af> 


-*4[' 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


: 


i 

*- 


feoted  by  this  perfect  oonfldence  shown  them, 
and  therefore  met  Rosetle  by  a  sympathetic 
omile  which  appeared  involuntarily  on  their 
own  Rrizzled  features. 

"  It  is  your  pluoe  of  residence  in  England 
that  we  ask  after." 

•'  England  T  Why,  we  are  not  living  in  Eng- 
land now." 

"What  was  your  last  place  of  residence 
there?" 

•'  Well,  papa  hasn't  lived  in  England  for  ever 
so  long.  I  lived  at  Clieltenham,  with  my  dear 
unole,  who  is  rector  there;  and 'Freddie  was 
there,  too,  studying— only  he  never  studied  at 
all." 

Part  of  this  was  felt  tobe  irrelevant,  and  some 
of  the  Judges  thought  that  she  wns  trying  to 
raise  new  issues.    However,  the  Cliief  went  on : 

"  What  is  your  father's  profession  ?" 

"My  papa  is  a  gentleman." 

"  What  does  he  do  to  occupy  his  time?" 

"Nothing— except  sometimes  he  paints  a 
Utile." 

"  Wiiat  is  he  doing  at  Rome?" 

"  Oh,  well,  a  little  of  everything.  He  paints 
a  little,  you  know,  and  studies,  and  collects 
antiquities.  I  suppose  painting  is  his  chief 
work.    He  makes  quite  a  holiby  of  it." 

"  Is  he  much  at  home  during  the  day  ?" 

"Oh,  yes." 

"Is  he  often  away?" 

"Oh,  yes." 

"Tell  me  where  he  goes  to?" 

"  To  the  galleries,  you  know — he  copies  pic- 
tures." 

"  Does  he  ever  go  out  of  town  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes." 

"Where?" 

"  To  Florence — and  sometimes  to  Naples." 

"  How  do  you  know?" 

"Oh,  well,  he  almost  always  takes  me  with 
him," 

"  Does  he  never  go  away  alone?" 

"  Oh,  no— not  any  long  distance.  He  would 
not  leave  me,  you  know." 

"Have  you  many  friends  here?" 

"  A  few." 

"You  did  not  go  to  them  when  your  father 
last  left  you?" 

"No— and  very  foolish  it  was— but  it  waa  not 
my  fault." 


"  Does  your  father  have  many  visitors?" 

"Visitors?    Oh,  yes." 

"Who?" 

"  Well,  generally  old  friends  passing  through 
Rome." 

"Foreigners?" 

"O'.,  no—English  people,  you  know." 

"  Does  your  fattier  stay  out  much  at  night?" 

"Oh,  no." 

"Is  he  liome  early?" 

"  Oil,  yes;  lie  is  always  in  by  ten  o'clock." 

"  Is  lie  never  out  all  night?" 

"  Oh,  dear,  no.  He  would-n't  leave  me  that 
way." 

Tlie  questions  thus  far  had  been  answered  by 
Rosette  with  the  utmost  quickness,  and  with 
the  air  of  one  who  liad  iiotliing  to  conceal. 
The  Judges  were  disappointed  in  the  answers, 
yet,  on  the  whole,  pleased  with  the  prisoner, 
who  showed  the  greatest  frankness.  They 
found  themselves  also  gliding  insensibly  into  a 
state  of  sympatliy.  This  was  owing  to  Ro- 
sette's way.  She  had  a  fashion  of  pre-suppos- 
iiig  sympathy  on  their  part,  of  appropriating 
tlieir  sympathy  as  a  matter  of  course,  of  tak- 
ing their  fiiendliness  for  granted.  It  was  not 
very  easy  to  show  the  customary  judicial 
severity  in  sncli  cases.  What  could  Riiada- 
mantlius  himself  do  with  a  little  creature  like 
tills,  wlio  persisted  In  putting  herself  on  a 
friendly  and  confidential  footing,  and  in  re- 
garding him  as  her  very  particular  friend. 

"Your  fatlier  fled  from  Rome  some  time 
ago?" 

"Yes.  and  a  very  cruel  thing  it  was.  He 
never  treated  me  so  before.  But  tlien,  I  sup- 
pose, poor  papa  couldn't  help  it,  you  know; 
for  I  believe  some  one  told  him  that  he  was 
going  to  be  arrested.  But,  really,  I  think 
some  one  has  been  deceiving  him.  I  think  he 
has  been  frightened  about  nothing,  and  ran 
away  when  he  might  jus.,  as  well  have  stayed. 
I  m  sure  he  needn't  have  been  afraid  of  you .'" 

This  little  tribute  was  taken  by  all  the  Judges 
in  a  very  gracious  manner. 

"  What  did  you  do  when  you  heard  that  your 
father  had  fled?" 

"Me?    V.  ly,  I  fainted." 

Rosette  spi.ke  this  with  a  simple  pathos  that 
was  vary  touching. 

"I  fainted,"  she  said,  looking  at  the  Judges 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


69 


visltoreP* 


Eissing  through 


know." 

uob  at  night  r 


D  o'clock." 

leave  me  that 

n  answered  by 
ness,  nnd  with 
ig  to  concea]. 
[1  ttie  nnswers, 
I)  the  prisoner, 
nknesa.  They 
isensibly  into  a 

owinR  to  Ro- 
of pre-suppos- 

npproprliiting 
course,  of  tak- 
'd.  It  was  not 
unary  judicial 
could  Rhada- 
e  creature  like 
g  herself  on  a 
ng,  and  in  re- 
ilar  friend, 
me  some   time 

ig  it  was.  He 
ut  ttieii,  I  sup- 
it,  you  know; 
im  that  he  was 
eally,  I  think 
m.  I  think  he 
hing,  and  ran 
11  have  stayed, 
f  raid  of  you .'" 
y  all  the  Judges 

leard  that  your 


ilepatboB  that 
nt  the  Judges 


;  with  her  large,  dreamy  eyes,  full  of  melau- 
?choly  reoolleolions,  nnd  speaking  in  a  mourn- 
ful voice.  "It  was  so  very,  very  sad,  and  I 
was  all  uloue  in  the  world." 

The  Judgi's  all  looked  as  though  they  felt 
this  to  be  very  sad,  and  some  of  theiu  looked 
guilty,  as  thouKli  they  were  in  some  sort  to 
blame  for  the  woes  of  little  Rosette. 

"  Yes,  but  what  action  did  you  take?" 

"  After  I  recovered  ?" 

"  Yea." 

"Well,  ft  letter  was  brought  me  from  papa, 
iwho  told  me  that  he  had  to  fly,  and  that  Mr. 
Cary  would  explain  it  all  and  tell  mo  what  to 
«o." 

"  Mr.  Cary?    Who  is  he?" 

"He's    a  very  nice   person,"   said   Rosette, 

•imply. 

"Yes,  but  what  countryman?  Is  he  an  Eug- 
iishmnn?" 

"  Well,  no— 1  think  not." 
•   "What  is  he?" 

"Why,  I  rather  think   he's   nn    Irishman, 
fudging  by  hin  accent." 
:    "  Well,  what  took  place  then  ?" 

"Well,  then,  1  burst— in  to— tears— because  I 
telt so  sad,"  said  Rosette,  in  her  usual  nielan- 
Uholy  way;  "for  it  seemed  to  me  just  as  if  I 
Was  all  alone  in  the  world,  without  one  friend 
to  turn  to." 

The  Judges  again  looked  with  synii)athetic 
liice?,  and  all  seemed  to  think  that  little  Ro- 
iette  had  certainly  had  a  liard  time  of  it,  and 
bud  suffered  very  many  unmerited  woes. 

"Yes,  but  what  did  you  do?  What  did  this 
jlr.  Cary  do  or  say  ?" 

"Why,  he  told  me  that  poor  papa  was  in 
jjp-eat  danger  from  the  Police,  and  that  I  was 
lb  danger,  too,  and  tl  atmy  papa  wanted  me 
fo  hide  and  keep  out  it  the  way  of  the  Police 
'^and  I  tldnk  my  papa  was  very  much  mis- 
taken, and  Mr.  Cary  was,  also." 
V  "Why?" 

.  "  Why,  because  papa  was  so  much  afraid  of 

^ou  that  he  ran   away   from   you,  when  he 

>|0ught  not  to  have  done  so.    For  you  are  very 

%ood  and  very  kind,  and  I'm  sure  I'm  awfully 

Ikbllged  to  you— and  I  only  wish  dear  papa  was 

bere,  too." 

These  innocent  remarks  created  a  vc      per- 

sptible  sensation,  which  was  aooompanied  by 


amiable  looks  and  smiles.  The  little  tribute  to 
their  goodness  and  kindness  was  very  effec- 
tive, but  when  Rosette  expressed  that  wish 
about  her  pupa,  it  seemed  almost  too  much. 
The  force  of  kindness  could  no  farther  go. 

"Why  did  you  hide?" 

"Because  Mr.  Cary  advised  it." 

"  Were  there  any  others?" 

"Yes;  Mr.  Smithers.  He  took  me  to  the 
place." 

"Who  is  Mr.  Smithers?" 

"  1  only  saw  him  once  or  twice  before.  He  is 
a  friend  of  Mr.  Cury's,  and  also  of  the  Patter- 
sons. I  think  he  is  the  one  who  thought  of 
making  nie  become  a  lady's  maid.  He's  a  nice 
man,  but  very,  very  silly,  or  else  he  could  nev- 
er have  thought  of  such  a  thing— really,  it  was 
nothing  hut  utter  folly,  for  you  know  I  am  the 
last  persou— the  very  last  person  in  the  world 
—to  pretend  to  be  a  servant.  In  fact,  when  I 
found  what  sort  of  people  they  were,  I  could 
hardly  heli)  ordering  them  all  about.  No— I 
might  have  become  anything  else,  but  I  could 
not  cease  to  be  a  hidy." 

The  force  of  which  remark  was  felt  and  con- 
ceded by  all  present. 

"  These  Pattersons— are  they  friends  of  your 
father?" 

At  this  question  Rosette's  look  was  per- 
fect—a mixture  of  surprise  at  such  an  idea, 
together  with  sweet  resignation. 

"Oh!  really,  how  very  absurd,  you  know. 
Why,  if  you  could  oidy  see  them  it  would  l)e 
enough.  They  really  are  not  at  all  fit  company 
for  a  lady.  The  old  people  are  fearfully  vul- 
gar, and  I  never  was  treated  with  such  shock- 
ing rudeness,  or  so  contradicted  in  all  my  life. 
Not  all,  for  Miss  Kinncar  is  very  nice,  but  the 
Pattersons  are  really  too  coarse,  and  Miss  Pat- 
terson is  not  quite  a  lady.  She  lacks  repose,  a 
little  too  demonstrative,  you  know,  and  some- 
what loud,  without  any  real  refinement.  MisB 
Patterson  was  very  unkind,  and  intentionally 
so— she  tried  to  insult  me  deliberately— but 
then,  really,  you  know,  when  one  receives  an 
insult  from  certain  quarters,  it  ceases  to  be  an 
insult  at  all ;  and  Miss  Patterson's  insults  were 
never  sufficiently  delicate  to  be  really  keen. 
They  were  coarse,  and  therefore  blunt." 

".Where  is  your  father  now?" 

At  this  Roseate  stared  in  unfeigned  surprise. 


.^f 


f 


I 


"Why,  that's  the  very  thing  I  want  ao  to 
know,  you  know.  IIt>  didn't  date  Ills  letter  at 
all,  nnd  didn't  say  wIutc  he  was  going.  I  do 
wish  you  could  find  out  for  me.  1  was  in 
hopes  that  we  migiit  talk  it  over  together,  and 
find  out  something  or  other  al)out  hlra;  and  if 
you  could  flnil  out  about  hira,  I  should  be 
very  grateful." 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE     CllITIOAL     MOMENT. 

Ah!  Boaotte!  you  can't  bo  merry, 
■With  this  grim  judiciary. 

Rosette's   ai)i)eiirai     )   Inul    certainly   con- 
oilluted  the  favor  o;  judges,  and   yt^t  hei- 

way  of  talking  only  St  rved  to  puzzle  theui.  No 
one  could  look  at  tliat  round  fa(!o,  with  its 
dimpled  olieeks,  and  encounter  the  full  gaze 
of  those  large,  dreamy  eyes,  with  their  won- 
drous fringe  of  eye  lashes,  •without  having  a 
kindly  feeling,  at  least,  toward  its  owner.  No 
one  could  listen  to  the  peculiar  intonations  of 
her  voice  without  being  sensible  of  a  kind  of 
pleasure  even  in  the  sound.  Besides,  she  had 
a  way  of  putting  herself  and  all  the  company 
on  the  most  friendly  footing,  an<l  chatting  with 
them  on  terms  of  confidential  intei'course,  like 
a  thoroughly  trustful  child.  Under  ordiiniry 
circumstances,  and  in  an  ordinary  room,  and 
before  ordinary  men,  all  this  would  have  been 
striking  and  attractive.  But  ttiis  was  a  differ- 
ent tribunal  from  oonimon;  and  the  contrast 
here  between  Rosette  and  her  surroundings 
was  so  tremendous,  that  it  gave  new  force  to 
her  looks  and  words,  and  new  power  to  her 
simple  charms.  For  this  Hall  liad  been  the 
scene  where  many  a  Carbonaro  or  other  con- 
spirator, and  many  a  criminal  had  received  his 
trial,  and  heard  his  doom.  But  not  for  me 
such  tragic  themes  as  these.  I  have  nothing  to 
do  with  the  History  of  tbeRo  man  Police.  I 
leave  to  writers  of  sublimer  rate  to  treat 
of  this,  and  confine  my  attention  to  little  Ro- 
sette, as  she  sits  here  upon  fires  hid  under  de- 
ceitful ashes.  The  thought  of  this  contrast  be- 
tween herself  and  her  surroundings  was  not 
lost  upon  her  judges ;  and  this  thought  deep- 
ened the  tender  pathos  and  the  sweet  grace 
of  her  manner.    The  thought  of  their  own  of- 


fice, and  wluit  tliey  tiiemselves  were  with  ref- 
erence to  her,  was  also  superadded. 

Now,  in  the  midst  of  all  this,  and  at  this 
stage*  of  tlie  proceedings,  a  Sblrro  entered,  fol- 
lowed by  th(!  woman  who  was  Rosette's  at- 
tendant. The  Sliirro  carritMl  with  liim  a  small 
parcel,  wliich  lie  laiil  njion  the  table  wlih  some 
long,  explanatory  remarks  to  the  judges.  The 
judges  took  possession  of  the  parcel,  and  then 
questioned  tlie  Sbirro  and  the  attendant  at 
some  lengtli,  and  with  mucli  niinuteness. 

Rosette  liad  scarcely  noticed  the  parcel.  Her 
only  (Iiought  was,  that  these  new  coiners 
might  ,iavo  discovered  something  about  her 
pa[)a.  Of  the  words  which  were  spoken  in 
Italian,  she,  of  course,  understood  nothing. 

It  was  evident,  however,  tliat  tliis  new  inci- 
dent seemed  to  the  judges  to  jiossess  very  much 
inipoi'tance,  and  pi'odiu'cd  a  very  great  sensa- 
tion. Some  were  in  favor  of  opening  it;  otliers 
were  in  favor  of  questiouing  Rosette  first,  so 
as  to  te.-<t  iter,  and  see  whether  her  simple  an- 
swers thus  far  ha<l  l)een,  indeed,  pure  honesty, 
or  the  fabrication  of  deep  artfulness. 

For  beneath  all  the  friendly  leanings  of 
tliese  venerable  men  tliere  iiad,  also,  lurked 
suspicions  of  lier  sincerity.  These  suspicions, 
it  may  be  added,  did  not  destroy  llie  friendly 
leanings;  and,  had  she  been  a  convicted  de- 
ceiver, they  would  pi'obably  have  admiivd  her 
none  the  less,  though  in  another  way.  If 
really  sincere  she  would  be  admirable  as  a 
work  of  nature;  if  in^'incere  and  liypocritical, 
she  would  be  equally  admirable  as  a  Avorlc  of 
art.  Rare,  Indeed,  would  the  art  be  that  could 
assume  such  matcliless  simplicity  of  look,  and 
tone,  and  gesture.  To  these  men,  all  of  whom 
were  subtle  and  crafty,  and  wily,  the  problem 
became  one  of  surpassing  interest,  and  which- 
ever way  it  was  solved,  tliey  would  not  fail  to 
yield  their  admiration  to  little  Rosette. 

Once  more,  then,  the  Chief  resumed  liisix- 
amiuation  of  Rosette,  through  the  Inter- 
preter. 

"What  did  you  bring  here  with  you?" 

"  Nothing." 

"  Did  you  bring  anything  concealed?" 

"Oh,  no." 

"Had  you  anything  about  you  which  you 
were  anxious  to  conceal?" 

"Oh,  no— nothing  at  all." 


10  with  ref- 

and  at  this 
jiitered,  fol- 
ilosetto's  II  t- 
hiiii  11  small 
I',  Willi  8oiiie 
iiclgc«.  Tlio 
ul,  niul  tlien 
tiencliiiit  at 

parol!!.  IltT 
le^v  comers 
;  about  her 

spoken  ia 
iioUiiiig. 
is  new  inci- 
s  Very  miieli 
frreat  sensa- 
ig  it;  otliera 
:>ttt'  first,  so 

simple  an- 
iire  honesty, 
•ss. 

leanings  of 
also,  lurked 
:'  suspiuions, 
lie  friendly 
)nvioted  de- 
admired  her 
ler  way.  If 
nimble  as  a 
liypocriticul, 
19  a  work  of 
)e  that  could 
of  look,  and 
all  of  wliom 
the  probli'm 
,  and  wliioli- 
(1  not  fail  1(1 
lette. 
imed  his  vx- 

the    luter- 

you?" 
lied?" 
I  which  you 


"Did  you  conceul  anything  in  your  eliam- 
bers  at  tlie  Pattersons'  before  coining  iiere?" 

"No."  said  Kosette,  "tliere  was  notliing  to 
conceal,  you  know,  and  so  I  loiililn't  eonocal 
anytliing.  Besides,  I  was  only  too  glad  to  get 
here,  and  iiway  from  those  very  niipliasant 
people.  It  would  lie  very  silly  ill  me  to  eoneeal 
anytliing  in  a  place  which  I  never  wialied  or 
expeeted  to  see  again." 

•'Had   you    any    papers  belonging  to  your 

father  ?" 

"  Oh,  no— that  is,  nothing  except  his  last  lit- 
tle note  to  me,  and  I've  got  that  in  my  peeket, 
jou  know." 

Willi  these  words  slie  produced  from  her 
pocket  a  letter,  and  held  it  in  lier  hand. 

The  Judgi'S  wirnpered  togetlicr. 

"There's  nothing  in  it,"  said  Rosette.  "  Per- 
||ni)s  you'd  like  to  look  at  it.  Only  I'd  like  to 
get  it  back  again." 

With  tlies(!  words  she  rose,  and  laiil  Iheletter 
on  the  Judge's  desk,  after  wliich  she  resumed 
her  scat.  The  Judge  i)liiced  it  on  one  side  for 
future  examination  with  chemicals  and  miero- 
■cope,  and  for  tlie  present  went  on  with  liis  ex- 
amination. 

"  Have  you  ever  tried  to  conceal  anything 
llnce  you  came  here?" 

"Here!    Oli,  no." 

"  In  your  chambi-r?'' 

"Certainly  not." 

"You  are  sure? " 

"  Of  course.  I  cannot  possibly  be  mistaken, 
for,  you  know,  as  I  said  before,  I  had  nothing 
Whatever  to  conceal,  absolutely  nothing." 

"Nothing?" 

"Of  course,  not,"  said  Rosette,  wonderingat 
bis  persistency. 

"Think  once  more." 
'  "  I'm  sure  I'm  thinking  as  hard  as  ever  I  cftn, 
and  I  cannot  do  more  than  that." 

The  Judge  looked  at  her  with  deeper 
gravity. 

"  Beware  how  you  answer  this  question,"  he 
•aid.  "  There  must  he  no  evasion,  or  the  con- 
(equences  will  l)e  serious." 

"I   beg  pardon,"  said  Rosette;  "but  lam 
never  in  tlie  habit  of  saying  what  I  do  not 
mean;  and  you  cannot  mean,  I  am  sure,  that 
l^ou  doubt  my  word." 
7  It  was  a  tender,  respectful,  grave   rebuke; 


but  It  was  a  rebuke.  Was  lliis  her  .siiuierity, 
or  was  it  her  matcliless  art?  All  tlic  Judges 
felt  tlie  fonie  of  this. 

"Very  well,  then,"  said  the  Chief.  "  We  take 
your  word.  We  are  to  understand  that  you 
eoiieealed  nothing  in  your  chamber." 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  l<iiow  what  more  I  can 
say." 

Nothing  more  was  said.  The  Chief  raiHed  the 
parcel  and  held  it  in  liis  hand,  looking  earn- 
estly at  Rosette.  Slie  did  not  notice  the 
gesture  or  the  parcel  parthMilarly,  but  looked 
with  lier  usual  calm  swcetiicss  and  self-posses- 
sion straight  ill  liis  face,  with  all  the  ease  of 
perfect  innocence. 

The  Chief  now  proceeded  to  undo  the  parcel. 
It  was  felt  that  a  critical  moment  had  ar- 
rived. The  Judges  all  awaited  the  result  in 
intense  excitement,  thougli  without  any  sign 
of  it,  except  a  certain  eager  glance  now  at  iIim 
parcel,  now  toward  Rosette.  Her  denial  hud 
been  so  persistent,  her  rel)uke  to  t  hem  so  grave ; 
and  yet  the  means  of  confuting  her  lay  so 
immediately  before  her,  that  they  cftuld  not 
understand  how  it  was  that  she  had  com- 
mitted herself  so  far  and  so  utterly.  And 
so  they  watched  first  the  parcel  and  then 
Rosette. 

Rosette,  however,  hud  not  noticed  the  parcel 
very  particularly  at  the  entrance  of  the  Sbirro 
and  the  attendant;  her  father  bad  filled  all 
her  thoughts,  and  she  confidently  expected 
that  they  had  brought  some  news  of  him.  She 
did  not  understand  the  drift  of  the  Chief'H  last 
questions,  but  still  expected  some  reference  to 
her  father.  Nor  did  she  very  particularly 
notice  his  action  now,  inasmuch  as  the  table 
or  desk  was  elevated  ubove  her  head,  and  the 
parcel  was  partly  concealed  by  it. 

The  Chief,  therefore,  under  such  circum- 
stances, proceeded  to  undo  the  parcel. 

First,  in  order  to  make  it  all  the  more  im- 
pressive, and  to  confute  Rosette  in  the  most 
thorough  way,  he  rose  to  his  feet. 

Then  he  raised  the  parcel,  with  his  eyes  fixed 
on  Rosette. 

Then  he  proceeded  to  loosen  the  fastenings. 
They  were  bound  very  tight,  and  there  was 
some  little  diCBculty;  but  at  length  the  Chief 
.succeeded  iu  loosening  them,  after  which  he 


aj 


r 


72 


TUE  BABES  IN  TUE   WOOD. 


: 


i 


bepiiii  to  unvriiul  lliom  slowly  iind  itiipres- 
•Ively. 

Tlio  t'xcitemeiit  givw  more  iiitt^nae.  All  eyt-s 
were  fixed  now  on  the  piiroel,  now  on  Rosette, 
and  8()  f.)rtli.  Rosette  lierjelf  gniilually  be- 
onmeoousoioiis  tli:il  tlii.s  piircel  was  (^miUMsted 
witb  her  exanilniilion,  iiixl  the  recent  ques- 
th>n«  nl)ont  coiUM-iilinent.  This  tlioiii^ht  eaino, 
and  thon  slie  looked  at  it.  In  tin  instunt  the 
whole  truth  flashe<1  upon  her.  At  that  in- 
stant tiie  parcel  was  unrolled,  and  there  from 
one  of  the  liands  of  Rhadnraanthns  dangled 
Rosette's  apron,  while  from  the  other  hung 
her  cap. 

The  face  of  Rhadamnntluis  became  a  study. 
For  some  time  he  did  not  understand  it.  lie 
looked  solemnly  first  at  one  and  then  at  tin: 
other.  The  rct^t  of  the  jiKlges  in  equal  perjjlex- 
ity  did  the  same. 

But  the  solemn  silence  was  suddenly  inter- 
rupted by  a  loud  |)eal  of  merry  laughter  from 
Rosette.  It  was  a  careless,  joyous  laugh,  to 
which  she  gave  herself  up  with  the  perfect 
abandon  of  a  delighted  child. 

"Oh,  liow  funny!"  she  exclaimed.  "Oh,  how 
funny!  My  cap  and  apron!  Oh,  how  funny! 
And  I  bade  an  eternal  adieu  to  them  I  Oh,  how 
funny!" 

The  Judge  was  still  puzzled.  Rosette  began 
to  explain  and  the  Interpreter  to  translate. 
She  told  all  about  it,— her  long  troubles  as  maid, 
her  joy  at  getting  away  from  the  House  of 
Bondage,  and  her  farewell  to  the  emblems  of 
her  slavery.  Her  little  narrative  was  told  with 
a  mirth  and  archness  which  not  even  the  sol- 
omu  truuslatiou  of  the  Interpreter  could  oou- 
oeal. 

The  Judges  looked  softened.  Their  brows  re- 
laxed. They  smiled.  They  even  laughed ;  and 
thus  there  was  enacted  in  the  Tremendous 
Tribunal  of  the  Police  an  unwonted  scene, 
where  all  these  hoary  Magistrates  ff>und  them- 
selves laughing  along  with  a  little  girl. 

This  terminated  the  examination  for  the 
present. 

*'  We  shall  have  to  detain  you  here  longer," 
said  the  Chief,  as  he  dismissed  her. 

"  Will  you  really  ?"  said  Rosette.  "  Oh  that 
will  be  so  nice,  and  I  am  so  very  much  obliged ; 
and  then  there  won't  be  any  more  trouble  with 


Mr.  Sinithera.  The  |)0()r  nnin  really  did  till 
best,  you  know,  and  could  never  havesupposed 
that  those  people  would  behave  so  ill." 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE    PAPA'S    PERPLEXITIES— HE    CONCLUDES    TO 
AOJUUB  HIH    PIUNCIPLES. 

Shut  up  in  thn  prison  station, 
What  un  awful  situation! 

A  NiTMBEn  of  dooi--ways  opened  from  the 
lower  hall  of  the  Prefecture,  and  each  of  these 
opened  into  a  chamber  winch  was  used  as  a 
lock-up.  One  of  them  formed  the  entrance 
Into  a  large  room  with  massive  walls  covered 
with  stucco,  and  stone-paved  floor,  and  Iron- 
•rrated  winilows.  There  was  a  rude  table  of 
ponderous  constriielion,  a  heavy  bench,  an 
iron  bedstead,  and  a  hanl  mattress.  Here,  the 
wreck  of  his  former  self,  plunged  into  the 
depths  of  gloom  unspeakable,  sat  the  once 
rosy  and  buoyant,  but  now  pallid  and  despair- 
ing papa. 

This,  then,  was  the  end  of  a  virtuous  life — a 
life  of  Reform,  of  Benevolence,  of  Purity,  of 
Peace,  of  Patriotism,  and  of  Pill-anthropy! 
In  such  a  situation,  the  good  papa  was  the  last 
man  in  the  world  to  rally.  Beyond  all  that 
was  visible  to  the  eye,  there  was  much  more 
that  was  manifest  to  the  mind — a  world  of  hor- 
ror uns|)eakuble — a  world  of  mourning,  lamen- 
tation, and  woe. 

He  was  in  the  hands  of  the  Police— the  Po- 
lice of  a  Continental  State!  the  Police — lioiTi- 
ble,  tremendous  thought!  At  that  thou  lit, 
the  imagiiKition  of  the  papa  was  stimulated  to 
action,  and  called  up  before  him  innumerable 
terrors. 

For  the  papa  had  blended  with  an  eager 
search  after  wealth  a  certain  truculent  and 
blatant  demagoguism,  an  all-levelling  Radi- 
calism, which  had  led  him  to  go  upon  thn  war- 
path against  everything  that  was  outof  accord 
with  his  own  notions,  or  experience,  or  inter- 
ests. He  had  fought  a  life-long  battle,  from  be- 
hind his  own  desk  or  counter,  with  Tyrants 
and  Despots.  He  loved  to  hear  the  sound  of 
his  own  voice,  as  he  moutlied  out  phrases  glo- 
rifying the  doctrines  of  Liberty,  Fraternity, 
and  Equality,  or  denouncing  the  Oppressor, 
the  Oligarch,  the  pampered  Menial,  the  blood- 


r 


1 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


73 


Illy  did  bis 

|v«  supposed 

lill." 


kCLUDBS    TO 


M  from  the 
|i<'»i  of  these 
s  ii8P(l  lis  a 
«  eutmiioe 
lis  covered 
',  and  iron- 
fit'  talilo  of 
I'fncli,  nn 

Here,  the 
fl    Into  the 

the  once 
nd  deapiiir- 

loiis  life— a 
'  Purify,  of 
nntliiopy! 
»iis  (lie  last 
n<l  all  that 
niK'h  more 
>|)<1  of  lior- 
iig.  lamen- 

!— tlie  P(,_ 
iw^— liorri- 
:  tlioii  III, 
Juhitcd  to 
lunieraljle 

an  eajier 
I  lent  and 

Ug  RlKli- 

the  war- 
Jf  accord 
or  inter- 
from  be- 

Tyrants 
sound  of 
isea  glo- 
iternity, 
pressor, 
3  blood- 


etttlntd  Tyrant,  and  tlie  bloated  Aristocrat. 
Tlio  good  papa  loved  to  gloilfy  the  People; 
yet,  after  all,  he  did  not  seem  to  care  paitlou- 
larly  about  the  every-day  people  witli  a  small 
•*p,"  whd  came  al)out  him;  for  he  was  op- 
posed, "on  principle,"  to  tlie  poor  aud  the 
needy,  and  always  managed  to  "get  his 
money's  worlli "  out  of  everybody  with  whom 
he  cnme  in  contact. 

Tiie  papa's  ideas  of  foreign  countries  were 
essentially  those  of  the  "average Briton."  lie 
regarded  all  lands  outside  of  his  own  Island  as 
crushed  undi-r  tlie  heel  of  Despotism.  All  but 
h's  own  countrymen  were  enslaved,— but  as 
for  them— Britons  never,  never  could  beslaves! 
TohimalltheStatesontheContinent  of  Europe 
were  so  many  Slave  States,— all  the  European 
Governments  Tyrants  who  ruled  by  force  and 
torture,  by  dungeon  and  rack,  by  scourge  and 
guillotine.  Tlie  papa's  favorite  reading  had 
consisted  in  hot  spiced  novels  about  cruel 
nobles,  bloody  barons,  feudal  castles,  Kinaldo 
Rinaldlni,  Abellino  the  Bravo  of  Venice,  and 
other  works  of  a  similar  charactei-.  Prom 
these  he  had  gathered  his  impressions  about 
continental  governments.  What  he  liad  read 
aboui  Feudal  Castles  and  tlieir  dungeons  ho  re- 
ferred to  tlie  society  of  the  present  day.  To 
blm  every  house  on  tlie  Continent  was  lioney- 
combed  with  dungeons  and  secret  passages. 
Every  government  ruled  by  means  of  spies  and 
executioners.  To  him  every  city  on  the  Conti- 
nent was  a  facsimile  of  the  Venice  of  which  he 
had  read,  and  had  its  "  Council  of  Ten,  its  Tor- 
tures, its  Bravoes,  its  Sbirri,  Us  Mouehards,  its 
Executioners,  its  Secret  Tribunals,  and  Its  Aw- 
ful Dungeons."  To  him  every  continental  gov- 
ernment still  ruled  as  in  the  past  by  means  of 
torment,  using  freely  torture  of  alldescriptions, 
and  employing  the  rack,  the  boot,  the  wheel, 
and  the  ordeal  by  Ore,  as  in  the  middle  ages. 

Since  his  entrance  here  his  mind  had  called 
up  all  these  things,  and  his  meditations  had 
been  directed  to  his  own  probable  fate. 
Around  him  he  saw  the  walls  of  a  dungeon! 
This  was  but  the  beginning  of  sorrows.  Soon 
he  would  be  plunged  into  a  deeper  and  a  darker 
one.  Soon  he  would  be  called  upon  to  undergo 
all  those  torments  of  which  he  had  so  often 
read.  There  would  be  the  Rack  I  How  could 
his  sonsitive  frame  sustaiu  the  first  turn  of  the 


wheel.  Or  perhaps  tiicy  would  apply  the  Iron 
Boot!— or  aTlinmbSerewI  Would  theyswlng 
him  up  by  the  lliunil)s  In  ll.iy  liini  alive,  or  tear 
him  in  pieces  with  wlhl  horses,  or  saw  him 
asunder,  or  break  him  on  the  Wheel,  or  bury 
him  alive! 

'Jpon  which  of  these  to  lct<  his  imagination 
rest  he  could  not  decide,  but  beyond  all  these, 
other  thoughts  romainei],  beyond  mIiIcIi  ex- 
tended still  others.  His  fancy  portrayed  his 
own  doom.  It  was  to  be  by  Fire!  lie  had 
read  all  about  It.  In  this  way  the  Continental 
Governments  nsed  to  punish  convicted  orlm- 
inals.  Burning  at  the  stake  had  been  a  favor- 
ite mode  of  e;:ecution  for  ages,  and,  of  course, 
still  must  be  so,  as  far  a»  tlu>  papa  knew.  This, 
to  him,  had  always  seemed  tlie  most  terrillo  of 
punishments,  and  it  was  the  one  whicli  now 
most  disturbed  him. 

"I  can't  stand  it,"  cried  the  piipn,  in  tremb- 
ling tones,  "it  is  too  much!  I'll  abjure 
my  principles!  I'll  give  up  the  doctrines  of 
Liberty!  I'll  bo  a  Despot  aud  a  Tyrant  my- 
self!" 

Such  a  resolution  as  this  may  seem  absurd  to 
those  who  coolly  read  about  it,  l)ut  to  the  papa 
himself  it  seemed  of  great  weight,  and  upon 
his  mind  it  had  a  soothing  influence.  How  to 
be  a  Despot  he  did  not  exactly  know,  but  to  be 
one  lie  was  fully  resolved.  Tlie  only  difficulty 
was  about  communicating  Ids  hitention  to  the 
government.  How  could  he  do  this?  Ho 
could  not  Bjieak  Italian.  He  could  not  wait 
for  the  lutcrpi'eter.  He  was  eager  to  put  bis 
resolve  into  instant  execution.    But  how? 

At  length  he  thouglit  it  would  be  a  good 
plan  to  make  use  of  all  the  foreign  words  he 
knew,  in  the  hope  that  by  means  of  somn  of 
these  he  might  establish  a  communication  with 
the  outside  world.  These  scraps  of  foreign 
languages  were  such  as  everybody  knows,  and 
the  good  papa  could  easily  recal. 

So  the  papa  put  himself  at  the  door  and  sur- 
veyed the  outside  world  tlirough  the  keyhole 
until  some  one  passed.    Then  he  shouted  out: 

"  3foosoo  /  Moosoo !    Parley  voooooo .'" 

No  notice  was  taken  of  tills.    Several  people 
passed,  aud  the  papa  shouted  several  times, 
but,    nlas!    in    vain.     They   seemed    to   have 
something  of  their  own  to  attend  to.    The 
moved  up  and  down  very  quickly  and  hastily 


74 


TUE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


— soldicra,  and  guii-tlariucR  talking  in  liurriod 
tones.    Tliu  piipii  was  not  iu-urd. 

"Oh,  yen!  Oh,yc8l  Oh,  yes  I"  oriiMl  tbo  pnpn. 
"E  plurlhu8unum!  Anno  Domini!  Multuin 
in  parvo !    Ne  plus  uUraP' 

In  vain. 

"Mimna  Chartdl"  criod  tlip  papa. 

No  use. 

"Hahcaa  Corjjus/" 

In  Tuin. 

"Victoria  Del  Orattn  Itcrjlna!"  oried  the 
papa,  with  unotlitT  clTdi't,  yelling  at  tlio  top  of 
bis  voice  the  faiiiillur  inscription  of  Englisii 
coins. 

But  lil«  efforts  weri-  in  vain. 

Ho  turned  iiwny,  yet  lie  was  not  quite ao des- 
pairing as  J)efori'.  A  liopo  was  i)eforo  liiin. 
Tlie  die  wns  cui't.  lie  liad  made  up  iiis  mind. 
He  would  give  up  tins  cause  of  Liberty,  and 
embrace  tiie  doctrines  of  Despotism.  He  al- 
ready tried  to  loolf  upon  liiTnself  as  a  Bloated 
Aristocrat,  and  was  wondering  wlint  tUaTlmcs 
would  say  editorially  wben  its  correspondent 
would  send  a  startling  aeeount  of  tlie  surren- 
der by  Wm.  Patterson,  Esquire,  of  the  cause  of 
tbe  People. 

"Well,"  said  be,  with  an  air  of  deep  convic- 
tion, "tbese  European  Despots  are  all  line 
men.  The  King  of  France  is  a  fln(!  man.  The 
Czar  of  Russia,  lilcewise— and  the  Emperor  of 
Austria,  is  all  that  lie  should  be— and  so,  also," 
added  the  papa,  thouglitfuliy,  "so  also  is  the 
King  of  Prussia!" 

And  ibis  increased  bis  iiope. 


papa  used  to  amuse  blniBelf  with  walcliing  her, 
wiiile  lie  was  reading  or  painting,  ubeu  she 
would  sit  in  some  eusy  position  smiling  to  ber* 
self. 
"  What  are  you  stniiing  ut,  littlo  Rosette?" 
"  Oil,  I'm  luvviiig  such  bappy  tiiougiits." 
So   now    Rosette    was   baving   sucli   linppj 
thoughts.     While  tlie  papa  was  plunged  in  u 
gulf  of  daric  despair  she  was  living  in  tin  upper 
and  a  better  world. 

How  nice  tbis  is— glietbouglit  toherseir— and 
I  wonder  what  maiies  tiiem  all  so  very  kind  to 
me?  I  never  linew  liefore  tiiat  tlie  Police  were 
such  nice,  Icind,  good  peo))le.  After  t  his  I  shall 
always  like  theiu.  But  T  must  ask  them  to  let 
Freddie  know  where  I  am, so  that  he  can  come 
here  to  see  me — I  really  must  see  bim. 

Then  siie  iiegan  to  think  tliat  it  would  be 
much  nicer  if  siie  could  only  have  some  other 
dresses.  First,  because  she  wos  so  tired  of  this 
one;  secondly,  because  it  was  associated  with 
unpleasant  recoiled  ions;  and  thirdly,  heeause 


CH/PTER  XXVII.' 

A  NEW    EXCITEMENT- AFFRIGHT. 

What  a  riot  has  arisen, 
*      In  the  courtyard  of  the  Prison! 

Wbele  the  papa  was  thus  undergoing  snub 
trials  of  mind  on  the  ground  floor,  little 
Rosette  was  in  tbe  room  above.  Some  people 
'  are  unhappy  when  they  bave  nothing  to  do, 
but  little  Rosette  was  not  one  of  tliat  sort.  She 
enjoyed  doing  nothing  at  all,  and  could  sit  for 
hours  motionless  enjoying  her  own  fancies.  It 
was  a  fashion  of  little  Rosette  to  construct  a 
fancy  world  around  ber  and  live  in  it.   Her 


[she  did  not  appeal'  in  lier  former  person. 

'  I've  Iiid  good-liye  to  my  cap  and  apron,  said 
she  to  herself,  but  wb.n's  the  use,  pray,  when 
I've  got  this  unpleasant  dress?  It  makes  one 
look  like  a  servant.  I  do  wish  fcfmld  get  them 
tosendformy  trunk.  Why  did  I  not  ask  those 
nice  old  judfies?  What  a  (igure  I  must  liave 
been  looking  like  this.  (),  I  positively  and 
leally  must  get  rid  of  tliis,  and  look  like  a  lady; 
and  l)esides,  this  dress  is  so  worn  tiiat  it  liegins 
to  look  quite  untidy. 

Little  Rosette's  tlioughts  now  centred  alto- 
gether on  the  sul)ject  of  dress.  She  decided  to 
ask  the  |)eople  here  to  send  to  the  lodgings  of 
her  papa,  where  all  lier  things  were,  and  bave 
tlieni  all  brought.  Atflrst  she  thouglitof  only 
having  one  trunk,  but  at  length  concluded 
that  they  might  as  well  bring  everything  while 
they  were  about  it.  And  tlien,  she  added,  I'll 
dress  myself,  and  they  shall  see  that  I'm  not  a 
servant,  and  then  I'll  get  them  to  invite  Fred- 
die here,— or  I'll  invite  bim  and  they  shall  take 
bim  my  note. 

She  iiad  been  seated  on  the  bed  all  tbis  time, 
but  now  there  arose  certain  noises  in  the  court- 
yard which  attractedher  attention.  She  arose 
and  went  to  tbe  window,  where  she  saw^enough 
to  occupy  her  thoughts  tor  some  time. 
The  courtyard  was  thronged  with  people. 


1 


TUE  BAB  EH  AV  THE    WOOD. 


75 


n(("liiti;:lnir, 
>K.  nlicu  she 
iling  to  her* 

RoHOtto?" 

Miphtn." 
siicli   linppy 
>luiigo(]  in  u 
'••  im  upper 

»y  kind  to 

PollciMvore 

rtlii.slsliall 

tliciii  to  let 

in  ciiii  eome 

iu. 

It  would  be 
some  other 
lii'd  of  (his 
oiiitcd  with 
lly,  Ix'fmj.sf 

CfSOtl. 

!iI)ron,  said 
pray,  wht-n 
irmltes  one 
111  set  (liem 
')<  lisle  (hose 
must  have 
lively  and 
likeiilady; 
It  it  hegius 

itred  alto- 
decided  to 
odgiiigsof 
and  have 
ht of  only 
concluded 
ling  while 
iddi-d,  I'll 
I'm  not  a 
i  to  Fred - 
shall  take 

ihis  time, 
he  court- 
She  arose 
v^enough 

people. 


There  wcro   noldlcrs    and  gen-darnifx;   theif 
wer«  alKo  uomon  and  clilldren.    Thci  boMIith 
were  all  arincil,  and  were  drawn  up  under  the 
walls;  the  women  and  children  all  looked  agi- 
|tati)d,  and  seemed  to  be  wandering  about  in 
jralhor  an  alnilens  fasliion;    the    gen-darnien 
Iwero  gathering  In  111  Me  pronps,  looking  some- 
Iwhat  nervous  and  uneasy;  oflleers  wuie  mov- 
ing about,  soinellnies  talking  to  one  another, 
[at  other  times  hurrying  up  and  down,  and  In 
[and  out.    Everywhere  tlierf  was  theappoar- 
[nnee  ot  excitement  and  trepidation. 

Now,  I  do  wonder   what   In   the   world   can 
She  the  u)atter,  thought  Rosette. 

The  window  could  bo  opened— she  opened  It, 
[and  thus  wna  able  to  see  better,  as  well  as  hoar. 
[No  sooner  had  she  swung  It  back,  tlian  she 
|was  startled  at  the  sounds  that  arose.  Beneuth 
there  were   loud    calls;  hasty    words;  quick, 
sharp  commands;  cries  of  children;  wild  ex- 
clamations;   while  from    the   distance    there 
came  a  certain    indistinct     and    Indefinable 
Bound,  like  a  vast,  deep  murmur,  intermlnglud 
Willi  wild  yoUs,  songs,  shouts,  and  cheers. 

Something  was  going  on.  That  was  very 
evident,  liut  what  could  it  be?  It  was  not 
very  easy  for  Rosett(!  to  guess.  She  thouglit 
that,  perhaps.  It  was  some  festival  of  the 
cimrch,  and  tliat  scnno  great  procession  was 
going  to  or  from  St.  Peter's.  Y(!t,  If  so,  why 
Should  these  women  and  children,  and,  above 
all,  these  soldiers  look  so  torrifled!  No,  it 
could  not  bo  a  procession. 

Suddenly  the  report  of  a  rifle  sounded  from 
afar;  then  others  followed  in  qidck  succession. 
Then  there  rang  reports  from  some  place  close 
by,  and  then  followed  the  thunder  of  cannon. 
At  this,  the  excitement  below  Increased.  Part 
of  the  soldiers  were  hurriedly  marched  away 
through  a  door  on  the  left  of  the  courtyard, 
while  the  others  waited,  looking  somewhat 
disordered.  All  around  the  agitation  grew 
deeper.  The  reports  of  rifles  and  cannon  still 
rang  out  with  undiminished  violence,  and 
every  report  seemed  to  deepen  the  agitation 
of  those  beneath.  The  soldiers  seemed  to  lose 
their  steadiness;  they  were  evidently,  for  some 
reason  or  other,  becoming  demoralized ;  there 
was  panic  on  every  face. 

Now,  I  do  wonder  if  it  can  really  bo  only 
a  sham  fight,  or  a  review,  or  something  of  that 


sort,  thong'''  iiosette.  I'm  really  beginning 
to  feel  qulie  Interested.  I  hope  It  \*  always  aa 
idee  as  this.  Now,  If  one  could  only  see  some 
one  to  ask  about  It— liut,  then,  1  don't  speak 
Italian,  no  I'll  have  to  guess  at  It. 

Time  passed,  and  Rosette  watched.  TIlAn 
there  came  from  afar  the  thunderous  boom  of 
a  dee|)-tolled  bell,  which  rang  in  long,  solemn 
reverberations  all  through  the  air.  The  nols*- 
of  musketry  and  cannon  also  still  conliuucd, 
and  the  mighty  murmur  that  underlay  every 
other  sound. 

Then  the  miirnun'  deepened,  and  grew  near- 
er; nearer  drew  the  shouts,  and  calls,  and 
songs,  and  clieers;  the  nols(!  as  of  an  Innumer- 
able multitude  advancing  irresistibly;  twarer 
cauK*  the  musketry,  and  the  slirlll  flfe  forced 
ils  notes  on  t  lie  ear,  and  the  war-drum  throbbed 
furiously,  till  it  seemed  as  though  tlie  mighty 
multitude,  whose approaiOi  was  thus  heralded, 
had  nil  come  up  to  beat  and  thunder  at  the 
Prefecture  gates. 

Amid  it  all  the  deep  tolling  of  the  bell  never 
ceased. 

I  know  that  liell,  at  any  rate,  thought  Ro- 
sette.    It's  the  big  bell  of  the  Capitol. 

But  her  thoughts  were  rudely  interrupted. 
In  the  courtyard  below  arose  wild  outcries 
and  walls  as  if  all  was  lost.  Tlie  gen-darmes 
fled.  The  women  and  children  thronged  tl  i 
few  doorways  as  thougli  seeking  for  refujfo 
Inside.  Thesoldlors  in  an  instant  melted  awi^y 
and  mingled  witli  the  crowd  of  fugitives.  All 
was  terror  and  lamentation  and  dcsjjalr. 

Then  came  theiliunder  of  cannon  and  the 
crash  as  of  falling  beams  and  timbers.  Thett 
cheers  and  wild  yells.  And  then,  through  the 
cliief  gate,  there  poured  into  the  courtyard  tt 
wild,  excited,  frenzied  throng — multitudes  cf 
men  were  there  in  red  shirts,  who  looked  llkt 
brigands — with  them  were  multitudes  more  in 
cilizen's  dress;  women  were  there,  boys  were 
there,  and  old  men  and  young  girls.  It  was  a 
disordered,  excited  mob;  and  thus  shouting 
and  singing  they  burst  through  the  gates,  and 
kept  pouring  along  till  they  filled  the  court- 
yard. 

Then  some  shouted  and  some  leaped  for  joy, 
while  others  embraced  and  kissed,  and  alto- 
gether the  noise  and  uproar  was  deafening. 
The  tumult  of  musketry  and  cannon  was  over, 


v^ 


^I 


^ 


76 


THE  nALEIS  IN  THE    WOOD. 


the  deep  bell  of  the  Capitol  tolleil  no  more,  mid 
the  people  gavetljemselves  up  to  joy. 

Then  ii  iniiii  stood  upou  ii  stone  pode^stal.  and 
in  a  loud,  masterful  voice,  harangued  the 
crowd.  And  the  multitude  listened  reapeet- 
fiilly,  and  wlien  he  hud  ended  they  applauded 
vociferously. 

Rosette  did  not  know  what  to  make  of  it  all. 

At  flrst,  when  the  gates  were  blown  in,  and 
the  crowd  poured  into  the  courtyard,  she  hud 
said  to  herself:  "I'm  almost  afraid  that  it  this 
sort  of  tliinp;  goes  on  any  longer,  I'll  begin  to  be 
afraid;"  but  afterwards,  as  the  musketry 
ceased,  and  the  crowd  bejian  to  embrace,  and 
kiss,  and  dance,  Rosette's  feeii..gs  clianged. 

"How  funny— howawfully  funny!  "  she  said 
"That  little  bald-headed  man  looks  like  a 
monkey."  Then  she  saw  something  so  ridi(;u- 
lous  that  she  had  to  laugh— and  other  ridicu- 
lous things  excited  otlier  laughs. 

"  It's  funnier  than  the  Carnival,"  she  said; 
"and  I  wonder  if  it  mightn't  be  a  kind  of  Car- 
nival, perliaps." 

Viva  la  RcpuhUca ! 

Viva  la  Liberia! 

Liberia!  Equallta!  Fratcrnita! 

Viva  la  Conslltuzionc ! 

Such  were  the  cries  that  arose  from  the 
crowd  below,  but  Rosette  did  not  understand 
Italian,  and,  therefore,  was  not  th<'  wiser.  She 
had  come  to  regard  the  humorous  aspect  of 
the  affair,  and  that  alone.  The  idea  of  the  Car- 
nival was  uppermost  in  her  mind.  She  had 
beard  quite  as  much  noise,  and  had  seen  quite 
as  much  confusion,  and  certainly  not  more  fun 
than  appeared  here,  at  an  ordinary  Carnival 
season,  and  witli  this  in  her  mind,  it  is  not  sur- 
prising that  Rosette  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  this,  also,  was  something  of  the  same 
sort. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  it's  some  kind  of  a  new 
Carnival  "-"thout  masks." 

At  length  tliere  were  noises  inside  the  t)uild- 
ing  which  came  nearer  and  nearer.  Outside, 
also.  Rosette  saw  that  carriages  were  coming 
in,  and  that  people  were  coming  out  and  get- 
ting into  them,  aftei  wliich  they  were  driven 
away.  These  people  certainly,  were  different 
turn  the  others.  The  crowd  regarded  them 
all  with  iniense  interest  and  profound  silence. 
broken  only  by  low  murmurs  from  time  to  time. 


"What  very  funny  looking  people,"  said  Ro- 
sette tolicr.self.  "What  are  they  all  going  into 
theeurriages  for?  And  that  funny  looking  old 
man  in  black!" 

Thus  it  was  that  Rosette  felt  and  thought  in 
her  ignorance.  Here  she  liad  b(^en,  and  here 
she  was  still,  in  (he  midst  of  scenes  tremendous 
—and  yet  singularly  indifTerent. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

THE     DAUGIITEU    OF    QENEnAL    GEOKGE     WASII- 
IN'OTON ! 

Spo  lioRot.o  in  triumph  como, 
Marching  through  the  streets  of  Rome  I 

The  opening  of  the  door  aroused  Rosette, 
and  drewlier  away  from  the  window.  Two 
men  stood  there.  They  wore  red  shirts  and 
felt  liats,  iMit  these  hats  they  instantly  removed 
as  they  saw  the  i)risoner. 

It  was  quite  evident  that  these  two  men 
were  utterly  astounded.  Here  was  a  piisoner 
of  a  very  different  kind  from  those  whom  they 
had  thus  far  seen,  and  for  a  moment  they  stood 
still  and  looked  at  her  in  wonder. 

She  stood  by  the  window  where  she  had 
tinned  round.  There  was  the  remnant  of  her 
last  smile  still  lingering  about  her  mouth  and 
dimpled  cheeks;  and  in  those  eyes  that  rested 
with  such  wondrous  beauty  on  them  there  was 
indeed  lething  like  curiosity  in  theirsolemn 
depths, ..  ..„  nothing  like  the  trace  of  a  tear.  A 
thing  of  beauty!  A  joy  forever!  That  was 
what  she  seemed.  If  they  had  known  Englisl- 
they  might  have  quoted  Dlbdiv.  at  lier,  and 
called  her— a  sweet  littte  cherub  tnat  lived  up 
aloft.  As  it  was,  they  ha<l  merely  souje  vague 
and  rhapsodical  ideas  of  angels,  and  grew  more 
reverential  every  moment. 

I  liave  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  very 
peculiar  fringe  of  long  lashes  on  Rosette's 
lower  eyelids  had  something  to  do  with  the 
extraordinary  effect  of  lier  eyes,  for  on  draw- 
ing her  faoo  on  paper  I  find  that  it  is  visibly 
deteriorated  if  the  eyelashes  are  left  out;  but 
*hen,  wlien  I  come  to  think,  the  same  thing 
may  be  said  if  the  nose  were  to  bo  left  out,  or 
the  mouth ;  and  so,  perhaps,  it  was  not  any  one 
thing,  but  rather  all  together— the  toul  ensem- 
ble, iu  short.    However  (bis  vunf  be,  there  t<Uo 


\.,. 


THE  BABES  IN  THE  WOOD. 


77 


pie,"  said  Ro- 
nll  going  into 
ly  lookiiigold 

1(1  thought  in 

■on,  and  here 

's  tremendous 


iOKGE    WASir- 


ifRomoI  ' 

Ji'ed  Rosette, 
iiidow.  Two 
d  shirts  and 
itlj' removed 

se  two  men 
as  a  pi  isoner 
0  whom  they 
nt  they  stood 

ere  slie  had 
anant  of  her 
'  moulh  and 
8  that  rested 
3m  there  was 
tlieirsolemn 
of  a  tear.  A 
!  Tliiit  was 
own  English 
nt  her,  and 
Mat  lived  up 
some  vague 
3  grow  more 

at  the  very 
II  Rosette's 
lo  with  the 
)r  on  draw- 
it  is  visibly 
ff  out;  hut 
same  thing 
left  out.  or 
lot  any  one 
tout  cnscm- 
),  therd  »hu 


'% 


stood,  iind  her  two  visitors  stood  also;  and 
while  8h«  looked  at  them  they  were  simply 
dumbfounded. 

The  strangers,  in  spit(!  of  their  rough  cos- 
tume, showed  by  their  manner  and  also  by 
their  faces,  as  they  stood  bareheaded,  that 
they  were  gentlemen,  and  this  Rosette  saw; 
but  then  Rosette  was  not  surprised  at  thai— 
slie  would  have  been  rather  surprised  if  they 
had  not  been  gentlemen— and  so,  l)eing  gentle- 
rfleii,  they  quickly  recovered  from  the  Qrst 
shook  of  surprise,  and  one  of  them  said  some- 
thing (o  hei'. 

At  which  Rosette  could  only  shake  her  head. 
It  was  evident  then  to  the  gentlemen  tliat  she 
wasa  foreigner.  They  tried  her  then  in  French, 
but  alas!  Rosette's  education  in  Cheltenliam 
had  been  so  lamentably  neglected  that  she  did 
not  understand  even  French.  And  what  her 
fatlier  meant  by  allowing  her  to  live  more 
than  eighteen  months  in  Italy  without  learn- 
ing some  other  language  than  English  is  more 
than  I  can  make  out. 

Still,  she  was  a  prisoner  of  the  Police.  She 
liad  to  be  saved,  and  these  men  iiad  come  to 
save  her.  But  the  role  of  saviors  and  deliver 
ers  was  a  rather  confused  and  uncertain  one  in 
this  instance,  and  this  both  of  the  gentlemen 
felt. 

For  instance. 

To  the  other  prisoners  they  had  said : 

"  We  have  come  to  save  you.  You  are  free. 
Fly— fly!"  and  tliis  was  very  nielo<lramatic 
and  very  well  received,  and  very  well  carried 
out. 

But  to  Rosette  they  had  said,  in  their  unin- 
telligible Italian : 

"  If  the  Signorina  would  like  to  leave,  a  car- 
riage is  wailing  for  her  below." 

I  might  moralize  on  this,  but  won't.  The 
Signorina  didn't  understand.  Hence  gestur.s, 
which  consisted  in  both  gentlemen  bowing, 
scraping,  biniting  their  breasts,  moving  back- 
ward out  tlirough  the  door,  standing  erect 
there,  smiling,  beckoning,  waving  their  arms 
outward  and  downward,  and,  in  fact,  per- 
forming many  other  gestures,  all  of  wliich  were 
fo  eloquent,  that  Rosette  gathered  some  idea 
from  it. 

The  idea  was  this— that  these  gentlemen  had 
been  sent  to  invite  her  to  quit  this  apartment 


cither  for  some  other  room,  or  some  otlier 
place.  Wtdl,  she  had  been  liappy  !.i  "e;  but 
she  had  no  prejudice  in  favor  of  this  partic- 
ular room.  Any  other  would  do  as  well.  Be- 
sides, change  brings  variety,  and  variety  is 
the  spice  of  life.  Moreover,  Rosette  liad  no 
luggage  to  trouble  her,  and  her  movcmeDts 
(!0Uld  be  made  at  a  moment's  warning. 

"  I'm  sure  I'm  glad  of  it,"  thought  Rosette. 
"I'd  like  to  go  to  another  place,  just  to  see 
what  it  looks  like.  Well,  it's  very  good  in 
them,  and  I  can  get  them  to  send  for  my  lug- 
gage, too,  wliile  they're  about  it — that  is,  if  I 
can  only  find  some  one  who  can  speak  Eng- 
lish. And  perhaps  Ihe  otlier  room  will  have 
larger  windows— or  a  balcony — and  that  would 
be  perfectly  delightful." 

Full  of  this  new  idea.  Rosette  smiled  very 
pleasantly,  and  nodded  to  show  that  she  un- 
derstood, and  walkeil  out.  One  of  them  went 
ahead  to  show  the  waj-,  wliile  the  other 
politely  walked  behind.  Both  of  them  were 
dying  to  pay  her  some  compliment,  or  tell 
her  the  news,  or  ask  her  all  about  herself,  but 
could  do  nothing,  so  they  had  to  content 
themselves  with  escorting  her  in  this  fashion 
down  to  the  coui'tyard. 

Rosett(>  noticed  with  surprise,  as  she  went 
along,  that  all  the  soldiers  and  geii-darines 
were  gone,  that  all  the  doors  were  open,  and 
tliat  all  whom  she  met  had  a  curious  way  of 
staring  at  her.  Besides,  they  were  all  in  red 
sliirts,  and  armed.  But  this  she  considered  as 
part  of  the  Carnival. 

At  length  they  reached  the  lower  door  open- 
ing into  the  courtyard.  Here  tliere  was  a  car- 
riage drawn  up,  and  a  sign  was  made  for  her 
to  get  into  it.  She  did  to  nL  once,  and  seat- 
ing herself,  threw  a  glance  around. 

Her  appearance  produced  an  indescribable 
effect,  and  the  first  sweep  of  her  glance  awed 
the  crowd  with  death-like  stillness.  Rosette 
found  herself  the  (centre  of  all  observation. 
Every  face  was  turned  toward  her,  every  cj'c 
was  fixed  upon  lie. .  The  reason  was  u>'  •,  wu 
to  lier.  She  felt  abashed  beyond  mca.  . ,  and 
for  a  moment  quite  overcome.  It  was  too  se- 
vere an  ordeal  for  one  who  had  always  lived  so 
quietly.  But  one  or  two  timid  looks  which  she 
stole  served  lo  re-assure  lier,  for  they  showed 
that  of  all  tiiose  fa.. ^s  turned  toward  her  there 


v4 


78 


THE  BABES  IN  THE  WOOD. 


Wits  not  one  ■whicli  was  not  full,  either  of  re- 
spectful udinirution,  ii  reveientinl  sympathy, 
or  wondering  pity,— oi'  rathe/  of  all  thesi;  to- 
gether. Tliin  theio  arose  iniirinurs,— in  soft 
Italian  syllables, — murmurs  of  sympathy,  of 
pity,  of  admiration.  The  Italiiin  was  un- 
known, but  the  tone  WMsinlcliij^ilile,  for  Nature 
spoke  in  that.  And  Rosette  felt  that  she  was 
among  friends— warm  friends— loving  friends 
—and  in  Iliis  sweet  thouglit  her  own  gentle 
heart  found  peace. 

It's  those  nice,  kind  Polieemeu,  she  thought. 
All  these  people  seem  to  know  all  about  me, 
and  feel  sorry  for  :ne  because  my  papa  has 
gone  and  left  me.  But  it  is  very  trying  to  have 
80  many  eyes  suddenly  fixed  on  one, — especial- 
ly wlien  I  am  dressed  like  a  servant.  If  lofdy 
had  been  dressed  like  a  lady,  it  would  not  have 
been  so  bad. 

Very  different  were  thefeelings  of  the  crowd 
around  from  that  amiable  resignation  whicli 
Rosette  liad  gained.  Iler  first  aiipeaiance  had 
been  like  a  thunderbolt.  If  some  living  skele- 
ton, scai'red  by  murks  of  scourging,  with  all 
his  bones  broken  by  toi'ture,  had  been  carried 
out,  the  sensation  would  hav((  been  far  less. 
For  that  tliej- Were  i)repared.  For  .nat  they 
were  waiting  (and  were  just  beginning  to  feel 
savage  at  finding  that  no  living  skeletons  wei-e 
on  hand).  But  for  this  tliey  certainly  weronot 
prepared.  For  this — tliis  vision  of  loveliiu'ss, 
with  tli(!  g"ace  of  a  lady,  tlie  dress  of  a  maid, 
the  face  of  a  child,  tlie  lieauty  of  a  siren,  the 
timid  sliiinking  of  a  nun,  and  fifteen  or  twen- 
ty other  things  wliich  ought  to  suggest  them- 
selves to  the  reader's  imagination. 

She  was  re-assured,  calm,  even  happy,  yet 
there  was  also  a  natural  shyness  incvilablo  to 
one  like  her  in  such  a  position,  whicli  made 
her  keep  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  bottom  of  tlie 
carriage,  or  tlie  opposite  seat,  and  onlj'  at  oc- 
casional intervals  did  she  ventni'e  1o  steal  a 
glance  at  the  crowd.  Now  Rosette's  eyes  were 
such  as  are  seldom  K'en  in  tliis  vide  of  tears, 
but  even  when  tliey  wei'c  lowered,  and  only 
the  faint  gleam  of  tlioae  glorious  orbs  could  be 
seen  through  the  long,  dai'k,  fringing  ej-elasli- 
es,  the  cfFi'ct  of  liei-  strange  beautj'  was  hardly 
lesseneil.  For  nuirk  you,  there  was  the  sug- 
gestion of  infinite  possibilities  of  eye,  in  the 
first  place;    and   thi-n    there  was  the  actual 


reality  of  the  face  itself  with  a  new  expression 
conveyed  by  those  diooping  eyelids  and  vailed 
eyes— an  expression  of  sweet  modesty,  of 
tender  innocence,  of  perfect  purity,  and  of 
dim,  mysterious  sorrow.  Now  when  such  a 
one  ajipeared  as  one  of  the  captives  of  the  Po- 
lice, snatched  from  its  dungeons  by  the  upris- 
ing people,  wliat  words  are  adequate  to  de- 
sci'ibe  the  effect  produced  upon  an  excited 
crowd  ? 

Tlie  first  murmur  (hat  arose  was—"  Who  is 
it?    Wlioisit?    Wlio  can  she  be?" 
Then  followed  innumerable  conjectures. 
Then  every  sound   was  hiisheil   in  universal 
pity  and  admiration. 

Then  an  aspiringdemagogue  arose  and  began 
a  liiiiungue  to  iiiOamc  tlie  minds  of  the  people 
against  the  tyiants  who  had  imprisoned  this 
lovely  unknown;  and  to  gain  :iotoriet3'  for 
himself.  Rosette  looked  a  little  frightened, 
liowever,  and  the  great  crowd  hissed  him  into 
silence. 

Then  came  another  movement.  Roselto  was 
the  last  prisoner  found.  All  the  rest  had  gone. 
The  drivei"  was  about  to  whip  up  the  hoi'ses 
when  a  band  of  voung  men  came  '  .-ward. 
They  piocreded  to  unharness  the  horses.  They 
ordered  the  driver  down.  They  took  the  car- 
riage pole,  and  some  found  ropes  which  they 
fastened  to  it,  and  theie  was  ti  gi'eat  insh  of 
volunteers  eager  to  pull  the  carriage  of  Ro- 
sette, or  even  to  do  so  !iinch  as  toucli  the  ropes 
attached  to  it  Failing  in  this  they  fojiued 
themselves  into  a  procession,  some  going  in 
front,  other»  following  behind. 

At  this  Rosette  was  very  much  troubled  in- 
deed. From  notoriety  oi'  imblicity  of  any 
sort  she  instinetively  shrunk  back,  and,  for  a 
lime  her  feelings  were  decidedly  ])ainfu1. 
Yet,  gradually,  her  bnoj-ant  spirits  rallied,  and 
sIk!  Iicgan  to  think  that  it  eoiild  not  be  so  liad, 
after  all,  since  tiny  all  had  very  kindly  feel- 
ings towards  her.    That  was  most  evident. 

It  really  is  very  unpleasant  indeed— 
Ihouglit  Rosette— but  it  must  be  all  meant  for 
the  best,  and  so  I  must  try  to  put  up  with  It. 
After  all,  it's  not  as  bad  as  being  scolded  by 
Mrs.  Patterson.  It  must  be  those  dear  old 
Judges— or  else  the  Police— they  mean  well, 
only  they  don't  liave  a  veiy  nice  way  of  show- 
ing it.    I  suppose  this  is  one  o(  those  queer 


■1 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


79 


w  expressiou 
Is  and  viiilt'd 
liKxh'sly,  of 
rity,  and  of 
ivlieii  siic'li  a 
es  of  the  Po- 
)y  Ihe  upris- 
liiiite  to  de- 
I  an  excited 

ns— "  Who  13 

jectures. 
in  universal 

seand  began 
f  I  lie  people 
risoni'd  this 
otoricty  for 
frifilitened, 
ed  liini  into 

Rojsetto  was 
t'st  liad  frone. 
p  tlie  liorses 
me  '  .-ward. 
loises.  Tliey 
ook  llie  car- 

wliicli  they 
leat  rush  of 
r'ia^ie  of  Ro- 
ich  the  I'opes 
Ihey  foinjed 
me  going  in 

troubled  in- 
eity  of  any 
If,  and,  for  a 
dly  ])!iinfn1. 
s  rallied,  and 
lot  lie  so  l)ad, 
kindly  feel- 
evident, 
nt  indeed — 
nil  meant  for 
It  up  w  ith  it. 
g  seolded  by 
ISO  dear  old 
■  mean  well, 
ivay  of  shoAv- 
',  tluise  queer 


Ituiiiiu  fasliions  that  dear  papa  used  to  talk  of 
—only  I  do  wish  tliey  had  left  the  horses  iu. 
It  is  really  shocking  to  be  pulled  by  men.  The 
Police  must  liave  told  them  to  do  so.  I'm  sure 
I  think  it's  very  silly,  and  I  don't  believe"  that 
English  Police  would  ever  net  so.  But  then, 
this  is  Rome,  and  as  papa  used  to  say,  nhen 
one  is  in  Rome,  one  must  do  as  Rome  does. 

With  such  thouglits  as  these,  little  Rosette 
tried  to  reconcile  herself  to  her  fate,  and  in 
this  v.-ay  she  succeeded  in  regaining  somo  de- 
gree of  calm  and  self-possession. 

It  was  in  this  way  that  Rosette  left  the 
prison  of  the  Prefecture.  Hundreds  of  young 
men  pulledhercar.  The.>'treets  were  thronged. 
Thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  filled  them. 
Every  liuraau  being  iu  Rome  was  out.  Rosette 
had  never  seen  such  a  crowd  in  all  her  life. 

Over  the  bridge  they  passed,  on  into  tlie 
street  beyond.  It  was  a  narrow  street,  irregu- 
lar, leading  to  the  Corso,  which  it  entered  near 
the  Rotundo.  It  was  packed  with  .human 
beings.  Already  other  carriages  had  passed 
conveying  those  who  had  been  freed  from  I  lie  | 
Police,  and  these  had  excited  various  emo- 
tions; but  it  was  reserved  for  this  crowd,  as 
for  that  in  the  courtyard,  to  experience  (he 
most  profound  sensation  at  the  siglit  of  little 
Rosette. 

They  found  something  so  touching  in  the 
sight  of  litth^  Rosette  alone  in  her  car,  that  her 
approach  created  instantaneous  and  universal 
stillness.  It  seemed  inexpressibly  piteous  to 
nssoeiate  one  like  her  witli  the  popular  belief 
in  the  severities  of  tlio  Police.  It  was  an  emo- 
tional crowd.  It  was  an  ininginalive  crowd. 
Many  were  aflFeoted  to  tears.  Some  sobbed 
aloud.  Most,  liowever,  looked  at  her  in  deej) 
silence,  and  with  faces  of  sad,  respectful  sym- 
pathy. 

It  was  a  strange  procession.  Hundreds  of 
young  men  liaullng  a  carriage  in  which  was. 
one  solitary  young  girl  of  wonderful  beauty, 
moving  along  in  silence  among  silent  mulii- 
tudcs,  such  was  a  sight  not  often  seen.  Tlie 
young  girl  !\lso— with  her  benuty— with  the 
flush  of  excitement  on  her  dimpled  cheeks, 
with  her  downcast  eyes,  and  her  timid,  shrink- 
ing modesty,  was  one  who  could  not  be  easily 
forgotten,  and  so,  after  she  had  passed,  the 
sileuoe  was  succeeded  by  low  murmured  ques- 


tions, eacli  one  asking  his  neighbor— Who  is  it? 
•Who  is  it?    Who  can  she  be? 

To  this  many  eonjeclural  answers  were 
given,  to  the  effect  that  she  was 

A  Spanish  Countess. 

An  American  Princess. 

The  Daughter  of  the  Lord  Mayor  of  London. 

A  Gipsy. 

A  Jewess. 

A  Representative  of  Liberia. 

A  ditto  of  La  Republica. 

A  ditto  of  Roma. 

A  French  Actress. 

The  daughter  of  the  President  of  the  United 
States  of  America. 

Whatever  she  iiiight  be,  however,  one  thing 
was  manifest  to  all,  which  was  that  she  was  a 
victim  to  the  holy  cause  of  constitutional  lib- 
erty, Italian  Unification,  Political  Reform,  Re- 
publicanism, Democracy,  Vote  by  Ballot, 
Common  Schools,  Graded  Schools,  Free 
Thought,  Free  Speech,  Free  Press,  Elective  Ju- 
diciary, Universal  Suffrage,  Professional  Poli- 
ticians, Wire  Pulling,  Log  Rolling,  Caucus 
Nominations,  Fat  Contracts,  and  many  other 
things  which  would  naturally  come  in  with 
the  new  regime. 

A  martyr,  and  such  a  martyr!  So  sweet  a 
victim! 

O, innocenza! 

O,  divina  siinpHcita! 

O,  vclezza  angelica! 

So  they  went  on. 

And  as  thi'y  went  on,  the  crowd  grew  denser 
and  denser  at  every  step,  and  at  every  step 
more  fervid,  more  zealous,  more  ardent,  more 
enthusiastic.  From  afai'  there  had  been  borne 
to  Iheiii  the  news  of  the  general  jail  delivery; 
most  of  the  captives  liad  already  been  sent 
along,  and  liad  been  received  with  loud  shouts 
of  welcome.  Thus  far,  liowever,  the  captiveb 
had  not  been  a  success,  — not  sufficiently  har- 
rowing. There  was  a  demand  for  living  skele- 
tons, and  the  crowd  felt  disappointed  and  hurt 
when  it  was  not  supplied. 

But  the  approach  of  Rosette  drove  aw.-^y 
eveiy  feeling  of  disappointment,  and  filled 
eveiy  one  with  wonder  and  curiosity.  It  was 
here  as  in  the  courtyard— there  were  pity  and 
sympalliy,  and  all  voices  were  liushed  at  once, 
out  of  the  depth   of  the   reverence   and   the 


I 


80 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


commiseration  wliioli  alic  iiispireil.  The 
roughs,  wiio  belong  lo  every  ei'owd,  and 
wlio,  on  common  ocoasions,  migiit  liavo  made 
themselves  unplensantly  c'onspie\ious,  here 
were  awed  into  silence  l)y  the  silence  around 
them. 

But  the  silence  only  intensified  the  excite- 
ment. Tliere  was  a  stiuggle  to  pet  near  the 
carriage — to  take  the  pole — to  touch  ttie  ropes. 
A  generous  emulation  tired  llie  breast  of 
young  Italy,  and  the  emulation  brought  on  ii 
Struggle,  wliiuli  was  curried  on  with  much 
spirit.  The  news  of  tier  coming  went  like 
wild  fire  before  her.  It  nin  on.  The  crowd 
far  ahead  stood  on  tiie  tip-toe  of  expectation. 
Avast  sea  of  heads  arose,  as  far  as  the  eye 
tiould  reach.  Tlie  tumult  (icased.  Silence  fell 
over  all.  Myriads  awaited  her  approacli  in 
dumb  expectancy. 

Audit  was:  Ilush!  'Tis  she!  She  comes! 
The  daughter  of  General  Washington,  kid- 
napped by  the  Police,  and  now  delivei-ed  fiom 
a  dungeon  by  tlie  Rouuin  People!    Hush! 

And  the  excitement  grew  broader  and  deep- 
er and  in  tenser. 

And  the  young  men  struggled  and  contend- 
ed more  ardently  for  the  ropes. 

And  the  crowd  opened  as  the  carriage  passed, 
and  closed  in  behind. 

And  on  they  led  lier — on,  dowT>  past  the  Ro- 
tundo— til  rough  tlie  Corso,  up  to  the  Campe- 
doglio. 

"Through  the  bellowing  Forum, 
And  round  the  .suppliants'  grove, 
Up  to  the  everlasting  gates 
Of  CapltoliauJovo!" 

There — a  tremendous  scene.  All  Rome  had 
followed  her,  gathei'ing  around  lu-r.  An  ora- 
tor mounted  Marcus  .\ureiius,  and  harangm-d. 
He  "  deified  "  Rosette.  The  crowd  wept. 
Fierce  excitement.  Then  tlie  young  men 
wished  to  crown  Rosette  as  the  genius  of  Italy. 
But  olijections  were  mad(>  on  the  groutid  of 
her  evident  timidity.  So  pity  and  considera- 
tion conquered  enthusiasm,  and  Rosette  was 
spared. 

Little  Rosette  had  been  quite  calm.  She  bad 
come  to  tlio  conclusion  tluit  it  was  Carnival; 
tbat  these  young  men  were  amusing  them- 
selves, n»»d  did  not  mean  any  harm.  She  had 
no  Idea  that  she  was  the  centre  of  this  scene, 
and  the  fact  that  she   was   stared  at   by   all 


around  affected  her  at  best  no  more  tlian  one 
is  affected  by  receiving  the  stares  of  every 
passer-by  in  the  street  of  a  town. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE  SHADOW  OF   AN   IMPENDING   DOOM. 

Poor  papa!  in  vain  you  strive  1 
Let  yourself  be  burnt  alive! 

Let  us  now  return  to  tlm  papa.  Fi'otn  the 
windows  of  bis  room  nothing  could  be  seen,  so 
that  he  w;is  dependent  for  information  upon 
the  sense  of  hearing  only.  He  had  desisted  for 
a  time  from  bis  outcries,  when  tlie  grailually 
Increasing  tumult  roused  him  once  more  to 
iiction. 

The  tumult  wns  vast,  varied,  and  all-pervad- 
iug.  It  souniled  much  louder  on  this  lower 
floor  than  it  did  to  Rosette  on  licr  upper  perch, 
and  to  the  old  lUiUi  it  was  more  menacing.  All 
tliat  Rosette  had  seen  he  heard;  all  the  panic, 
all  tlie  rushing  to  and  fro,  the  agitation  of  sol- 
(liei-s,  the  cries  of  women  and  children,  tlie 
trepidation  of  fugitives.  lie  did  not  know 
what  to  think  of  it.  He  feared  tliat  there 
might  be  danger  to  himself  in  all  this.  It 
might  be  the  preparation  for  Ids  doom.  They 
might  have  tried  and  condemned  liim  in  his 
absence.  They  might  now  be  picparing  for 
ills  publlu  execution— by  Fire! 

TIk^  thought  filled  him  with  liori'or.  He  re- 
solved to  fight  to  the  last  against  bis  unmerited 
doom.  Thci'e  was  no  time,  to  lose.  The  noise 
was  Incriasing.  He  must  try  again  to  com- 
municate with  the  world. 

Back,  therefore,  went  the  papa  to  tli4>  door. 
He  put  his  mouth  to  tlie  keyhole  and  once 
more  began  lo  shout: 

" 3f 00 J.00 .'  monsnn!  Annn  Domini!  Hie 
Jdcct!  InMcmnrlnm!  Mr  Abjure— me  Abjure— 
mc  Abjure!   Magu<i  Chni-ta !  IlabcaiiOirpiis!" 

In  vain.  His  cries  were  not  noticed.  The 
hurrying  ci'owd  passcvl  to  and  fro,  and  the 
pupa's  voice  was  as  nothing  in  a'l  tliat  diii. 

Tlie  papa  l)eiran  to  feel  discouraged.  What 
did  all  this  mean?  Had  he  really  been  tried 
and  condemned  in  his  absence?  It  might  be 
so.  He  liad  heard  of  such  things.  But  what  a 
fearful  thought— to  be  condemned  unheard! 


^<l. 


THE  BABES  IN  THE  WOOD. 


81 


iiore  thiin  one 
tares  of  every 


[NG  DOOM, 

rlvel 
e! 

)!i.  From  the 
iild  l)e  si'i'ii,  so 
r'luatioii  upon 
ul  desisted  for 
the  gi-aiiu!illy 
oiu'u  more  to 

id  nll-pervad- 
Dii  this  lower 
!•  upper  percli, 
leimeliig.  All 
all  the  panic, 
fitatioii  of  sol- 
cliildren,  the 
id  not  Icnow 
d  that  there 
all  this.  It 
doom.  They 
ed  liitii  ill  his 
)iepaiing  for 

irror.  He  re- 
ds unmerited 
3.  The  noise 
gain  to  com- 

i  to  the  door. 
f)le  and  once 

omini !     Hie 
mcAhj^lre— 

'jCitS  C')?'J)?/8/" 

iiotieed.    The 
fro,  anil  the 

that  dill, 
•aged.    What 
ly  heeii  tried 

It  might  be 

But  n  lint  a 

ed  unheard! 


And  perJinps  the  Judges  laid  created  all  this 
ttpioiir  for  the  very  purpose  of  drowning  his 
Ories! 

Then  came  the  roll  of  musketry,  and  the 
boom  of  eannon,  and  the  shout  of  an  advanc- 
ing multitude.  Then  came  the  last  rush  of 
fugitives  hurrying  away.  Then  came  the  re- 
port of  the  last  gun  and  the  crash  of  falling 
timbers.  Then  a  last  shout,  louder,  deeper, 
wilder,  more  exultant,  as  the  multitude  poured 
into  the  courtyard. 

Now  for  a  time  there  waa  silence  in  the  pas- 
sage way  outside;  but  soon  hurried  footsteps 
approached,  the  door  was  unloclied  and 
thrown  open,  and  two  men,  armed,  and  in  red 
shirts,  stared  wildly  in. 

The  sight  of  such  a  costume  of  such  a  color 
—red— filled  the  papa  with  terror.  It  suggest- 
ed death!  "The  executioners!"  ho  thought, 
and  he  reeled  back  in  such  utter  horror  that 
be  fell.  The  two  men  rushed  toward  him  and 
raised  him  up.  The  papa  struggled,  but  in 
vain.  Then  lie  grew  numb  all  over.  At 
leogth  he  found  some  voice. 

^Labor  omnia  vinctt!  Aimo  Dominir'  he 
murmured.    "  ilfoosoo,  parley  voo !" 

The  men  spoke  to  him  in  Italian. 

'^Pax  vobificum!"  said  the  unhapjiy  papa. 
" Magna  Charta !  Olorlamundi!  Sic  transit! 
Tenijyus  fuglt !  Ich  dien .'" 

The  men  shook  tl   'r  heads. 

The  papa  groaned, 

"I'm  lost!"  bethought.  "They can't urder- 
Btond.  Those  red  shirts  mean  that  they  are 
executioners  —  the  flre-men  —  the  men  that 
kindle— the  fires!  Oh,  mercy!"  and  at  this 
thought  his  lilood  froze— liis  hair  bristled— and 
his  tongue  clove  to  the  roof  of  his  mouth. 

The  men  now  tried  to  draw  him  out  of  the 
chamber.  They  pointed  to  the  door.  Their 
meaning  was  only  too  plain.  They  were  in- 
tent on  taking  liim  at  once  to  the  stake.  The 
papa's  horror  was  now  so  visible  that  the  men 
noticed  it.  They  tried  to  re-assure  liim.  But 
it-was  of  no  u>e.  The  papa  thought  it  was  all 
deieption  on  rheir  part  to  Induce  him  to  go 
quietly. 

^*Vivat  Rcglna!"  he  said,  in  a  feeble  voice, 
**t'ah,  mchiheer!" 

tlie  men  shook  their  heads.  Being  in  a 
hurry,  they  couldn't  wait  any  longer,  but  drew 

i 


him  out  with  gentle  force,  while  in  the  papa's 
soul  the  light  of  life  seemed  to  die  out  utterly. 

They  drew  him  along.  They  reached  a  door- 
way. The  papa  could  see  outside — a  vast 
crowd,  seething,  swaying,  shouting.  Every 
eye  was  turned  toward  him.  Well  he  knew 
what  that  meant.  He  thought  those  fierce, 
foreign  faces  were  all  malignant — that  thoso 
innumerable  eyes  all  gleamed  with  hate,  tliat 
every  one  there  was  a  wild  beast  thirsting  for 
Ills  blood.  He  drew  back,  trembling.  But 
the  men  pushed  him  on  to  others  outside,  who 
took  him  to  a  carriage,  which  was  drawn  up 
close  by,  and  put  hiin  in.  Two  or  three  others 
were  there. 

A  low  murmur  ran  through  the  crowd.  To 
the  papa  it  seemed  like  a  clamor  for  his  blood. 
A  shudder  ran  through  him.  He  could  not  die 
thus  idly.  He  i-oso  to  his  feet  and  stretched  out 
lii.s  hands  eagerly. 

Oh  tcmjwra  !  O  mores  !  he  shouted.  Vlvat 
Regina—A  has  Magna  Charta  and  Habeas  Cor- 
pus I  Sic  semper  tyrann Is! 

The  crowd  listened  attentively,  and  then  a 
murmur  of  resi)ectful  sj'iupathy  ran  through 
all. 

"The  poor  man!  The  unfortunate  one!" 
they  cried.    "  He  is  mad  1" 

"  Is  theie  liany  body  'ere,"  cried  tlie  papa 
in  desperation,  "that  speaks  English?  Oh  'ear 
me!  Save  me!  Save  met  They're  going  to 
burn  me  alive!'' 

But  now  another  rescued  prisoner  was  put  in 
tlie  carriage  and  the  papa  was  driven  away. 
He  sat  staring  eagerly  uiion  the  crowd  to  see 
if  ho  could  find  any  familiar  face.  He  also 
gave  relief  to  his  soul  by  crying  out  at  inter- 
vals such  simple  formulas  as  those  already  re- 
ported. 

Before  the  carriage  had  gone  far  two  or 
three  men  sprang  forward  and  stopped  it. 
Then  they  embraced  with  joy  two  of  the 
papa's  companions.  The  same  thing  liappeiieil 
more  than  once.  There  wero  three  others  in 
the  carriage  who  looked  pale  and  seedy,  and 
the  excitement  of  the  present  occasion  made 
tliem  agitated  and  tremulous.  In  these  eager 
greetings  the  papa  saw  only  eternal  farewells; 
in  the  tears  of  joy  he  saw  only  tears  of  despair. 
He  and  they  were  all  Involved  in  one  common 
doom! 


82 


THE  BABES  IN  THE  WOOD. 


And  now  on  through  the  long  street  went 
the  papn,  hia  eyea  scanning  every  face  despiiir- 
ingly,  but  of  nil  that  he  saw  not  one  appeared 
familiar.  The  bearded  and  sallow  Italian  faces 
were  not  only  strange,  but  apparently  hostile. 
To  liim  they  were  the  faces  of  enemiea,  eager 
lor  his  l)lood.  and  most  horrible  of  all  were  the 
tneii  in  red  shirts.  Tiiese  were  the  dread  min- 
ions of  a  foreign  Tyrant,  whose  red  uniforms 
were  the  fitting  emblems  of  tlioae flames  wliich 
tliey  loved  to  kindle  around  helpless  viotims. 
He  felt  tliat  while  these  men  were  around  liim 
any  appeal  for  help  must  be  useless,  since  even 
if  any  merciful  or  pitiful  soul  might  be  there, 
be  would  be  afraid  of  showing  his  compassion, 
for  fear  of  bein^  involved  in  a  similar  fate. 
Tet  out  of  Ills  despair  he  still  kept  up  his  cry : 

O  temporal  0  mores!  Moosoo!  Mnosoo! 
Parley  vool  Habeas  Corpus  I  VivatRcglna! 

But  the  crowd  understood  nottiing,  and  all 
the  time  the  poor  papa  felt  more  and  more 
that  he  was  a  lost  man. 

And  now  let  us  take  our  stand  here  for  a 
-moment,  my  brethren,  and  compare  the  mind 
•of  the  papa  with  that  of  Rosette,  from  the 
'data  already  given.  Mark  the  peace,  the  hap- 
ipiness,  yea,  tlie  joy,  of  the  latter;  and  then 
the  horror,  the  dismay,  yea,  the  despair,  of  the 
former.  And  the  moral  of  this  is,  as  we  make 
our  beds,  so  do  we  lie  on  them ;  and  again,  we 
Are  as  we  think;  and  again,  we  all  make  oui 
■own  worlds;  and  yet  again,  as  the  poet  sayeth — 
"The  mind  is  its  own  place,  and  in  itself 
Can  make  a  Heaven  of  Hell,  a  Hell  of  Heaven." 

Together  with  forty  or  llfty  more,  which  the 
reader  may  search  after  in  the  appendix. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THB  HEADQUARTERS  OF  THE   INSUROENTS — THE 
MEN  IN  RED. 

Lo!  the  poor  papa  hath  fled 
From  the  awful  men  in  Red  I 

So  the  papa  wns  borne  along  in  his  despair, 
and  not  a  friendly  face  appeared.  All  around 
there  spread  a  sea  of  hostile  faces,  where  he 
was  all  alone,  with  none  to  whom  ho  could 
make  known  his  terrible  position.  All  his 
ories,  his  looks  of  woe,  his  supplicatory  ges 
tures,  had  been  useless,  and  worse  than  useless. 

At  lengdi   the  carriage   stopped.    All   got 
down.   Tbe  papa  desoeodect  last  of  all.  Scarce 


could  his  trembling  limbs  sustain  him.  With 
ghastly  face,  and  eyes  full  of  fearful  anticipa- 
tion, ho  looked  all  around,  to  see  what  new 
horror  might  now  be  presented  before  him. 

It  was  a  stately  palace,  witli  a  broad  piazza 
in  front,  filled  with  human  beings.  Before 
liim  arose  a  lordly  gateway,  through  which  he 
could  see  a  spacious  courtyard,  where  there 
was  also  a  vast  assemblage. 

All  around  were  men  in  red  shirts,  who 
seemed  here,  as  elsewhere,  to  have  a  most  con- 
spicuous and  prominent  place.  The  sight  of 
these  red  men  only  confirmed  his  fears.  They 
seemed  busy,  too— ah!  horribly  busy. 

It  seeuied  to  the  papa  that  they  were  more 
busy  in  the  spacious  courtyard  than  anywhere 
else,  and  that  they  were  busy  about  some  great 
preparations. 
Preparations! 
For  what? 

A  cold  shudder  passed  through  him  at  this 
question. 
For  what? 

For  one  thing  only— for  the  Public  Execu- 
tion by  Fire!!!  Here,  no  doubt,  they  were 
far  advanced  in  their  work.  Here  was  to  be 
the  scene  of  that  sutTering  from  which  he 
shrank  back.  Still,  with  a  horrible  fascina- 
tion, he  found  his  giize  enchained  there,  and  he 
cast  his  eyes  eagerly  about,  taking  in  the  whole 
with  one  swift  glance. 

That  first  glance  gave  him  some  relief.  He 
saw  that  there  were  no  stakes  as  yet  planted 
in  the  ground  ;  no  staging  was  erected  there; 
nor  were  there  any  piles  of  faggots  visible;  nor 
was  there  anything  which  looked  like  the  seat 
of  the  Prefect  of  the  Police  or  High  Sheriff. 
There  seemed  a  respite,  and  tlie  papa  drew  a 
breath  of  relief,  though  he  felt  that  this  re- 
spite could  not  be  for  long. 

They  were  then  ushered  into  tlie  Palace,  and 
entered  the  vestibule.  This  was  most  magnifi- 
cent. There  was  a  pavement  of  polished  mar- 
bles, walls  of  marble,  and  a  marble  stairway, 
which  led  up  to  a  splendid  gallery,  and  thence 
went  on  into  the  upper  story. 

Up   this  stairway   they   all  passed,  and  at 

length   reached   the  top.    Here,  on  one  side, 

there  was  a  magnificent  gallery,  while  on  the 

other  extended  a  long  suite  of  apartments. 

Into  these  last  the  prisoners  were  oonduotedi 


THE  BABES  IN  THE  WOOD. 


88 


Passing  oil  from  oue  to  iiiiotlier  they  caine  Ion 
third,  where  a  table  was  standing,  upon  which 
there  was  spread  a  sumptuous  repast.  Here 
they  were  invited  to  eat,  and  though  the 
papa  did  not  understand  the  language,  he 
found  tio  diffloulty  iu  understanding  the  ges- 
tures. 

The  other  prisoners  sat  down  and  began  to 
eat.  The  papa  also  sat  down,  but  ate  not.  To 
eat  was  impossible.  The  thing  seemed  ab- 
horrent. It  seemed  indeed  not  kind,  but 
cruel— even  the  refinement  of  cruelty.  It  was 
like  fattening  the  ox  before  slaughter— or  like 
the  criminal's  last  breakfast  before  execution. 
He  could  not  bear  the  sight. 

But  a  man  iu  red  was  very  urgent,  and  at 
bis  pressing  solicitatiou  the  papa  consented  to 
try  a  glass  of  wine.  Tills  man  in  red  seemed  at 
first  to  the  papa  to  be  very  painfully  atten- 
tive, and  every  act  and  word  served  to  set  the 
unhappy  man  into  a  fresh  panic;  but  aftet  a 
time  other  arrivals  took  place,  until  at  length 
the  attention  of  the  man  in  red  was  diverted ; 
the  table  was  fully  occupied  and  the  papa  was 
less  molested. 

All  were  now  occupied  with  the  repast. 
Laughter  and  shouts  and  gaiety  prevailed. 
There  seemed  lo  be  nothing  but  fun  and  mer- 
riment. On  tLe  part  of  the  Red  Men  this 
seemed  to  the  papa  to  be  nothing  else  than 
cold  blooded  cruelty,  while  on  the  part  of  the 
wretched  prisoners  it  seemed  like  a  callous  in- 
difference to  the  future  which  was  almost 
worse.  Firmness,  fortitude,  heroic  endur- 
ance—all these  were  demanded  on  the  part  of 
those  over  whom  rested  the  appalling  shadow 
of  a  death  by  Fire,  but  not  this  ill-timed  mirth, 
this  reckless  and  wretched  levity.  To  the 
mind  of  the  papa  occurred  the  worda  of  that 
mad  song : 

Sae  rantinglf,  sae  rantlngly, 

Sae  dantlngly  gaed  he; 
He  sang  a  lilt,  and  danced  it  round 

About  the  gallows-tree. 

And  again  the  words  of  a  rival  song  iu  the  sis- 
ter dialect,  which  was  of  a  kindred  spirit,  an«l 
breathed  the  same  distressing  frivolty : 

The  night  afore  Larry  was  stretched. 

The  boys  they  all  paid  him  a  visit. 

Such  mud  and  reckless  merriment  was  dis- 
tressing and  disgusting  to  the  papa.  He  could 
not  bear  it.    He  could  not  rouse  himself  for 


even  a  moment.  He  could  only  watch  with 
despairing  eye  the  company  around  in  the 
feeble  hope  that  after  all,  even  at  the  eleventh 
hour,  some  one  might  appear  to  whom  be  could 
make  known  his  woes. 

At  length  they  all  rose  from  their  seats. 
Many  of  the  prisoners  left  the  room.  The 
jiapa  could  not  quite  make  out  whether  they 
went  away  of  their  own  accord  or  were  taken 
out  by  the  Red  Men.  It  seemed  to  him  that  they 
were  being  conveyed  away  to  their  separate 
dungeons.  Yet  at  the  same  time  there  seemed 
to  be  a  decided  relaxation  of  vigilance  on  the 
part  of  the  guards,  and  the  thought  occurred 
to  him  that  if  he  could  only  getaway  from  the 
immediate  proximity  of  tiie  chamber  he  might 
succeed  in  effecting  his  escape. 

Thus  a  new  hope  arose— the  hope  of  flight,  of 
escape,  of  liberty.  At  once  new  strength  came 
commensurate  with  the  hope  and  with  the 
needs  of  the  hour.  For  if  he  would  escape  he 
would  have  to  be  strong,  aye— and  active  too, 
tk\d  vigilant,  and  cunning,  and  wary 

And  now  he  watched  his  chance. 

Very  slowly,  and  cautiously,  and  with  the 
most  indifferent  air  that  he  could  assume,  he 
worked  himself  toward  the  door  which  led  to 
the  room  lying  beyond.  No  one  stopped  him. 
No  one  seemed  to  regard  him.  He  peered  into 
the  room.  No  one  was  there.  He  entered  it. 
No  one  interfered. 

Here  he  paused  and  waited.  The  walls  were 
hung  with  pictures.  Upon  these  he  pretended 
to  look,  keeping,  however,  his  eyes  intently 
observant  all  around,  to  see  if  he  was  watched 
at  all,  or  in  any  way.  As  far  as  he  could  see  be 
was  not  watched. 

This  suggested  another  thought.  It  seemed 
to  him  now  that  the  whole  house  was  so  close- 
ly watched  and  so  securely  guarded  that  the 
prisoners  were  allowed  to  move  about  with 
perfect  freedom.  If  this  were  so,  then  the 
hope  of  final  escape  was  faint  indeed.  Still, 
though  the  hope  might  be  faint,  it  was  certain- 
ly better  to  make  an  effort  than  to  remain 
helpless  among  the  men  in  red. 

Slowly  and  cautiously,  therefore,  the  papa 
moved  into  the  next  room. 

It  was  empty. 

Into  the  next. 

Empty  too.  k 


84 


THE  BABEa  IN  THE   WOOD. 


IIo  now  moved  oinvui'd  moro  quickly,  unci 
■con  ri'iiclu'd  llio  next. 

No  ono  followed. 

And  now  bo  went  ou  nud  ou,  into  room  after 
room. 

No  ono  followed. 

Ho  was  iiu()b8erve<l. 

At  length  he  reiielicd  ii  liiill.  Hero  he  found 
a  stiiirwuy.  It  led  into  an  ni)i)er  atory.  This 
he  ascended.  He  thouuht  he  would  have  thus 
a  better  ehanee  of  hiding  or  of  escaping. 

No  one  followed. 

At  the  top  ho  found  suites  of  rooms,  which 
led  away  on  either  side.  For  ii  niotnent  lie 
besltiited.    Then  he  chose  tiie  rooms  on  (lie  left. 

But  now  he  began  to  feel  desirous  of  nuikiiig 
bis  escape  more  unobserved.  Tlnia  far  he  had 
kept  up  the  role  of  a  tourist  or  spectator,  and 
expected  every  moment  to  be  arrested  and 
Bent  back.  Now  lie  had  more  hope.  The  first 
thing  was  to  be  able  to  move  more  stealthily. 

His  boots  creaked  too  much  for  this.  Tliey 
must  be  removed. 

He  flung  himself  down,  and  pulled  them  ofT. 

As  he  was  doing  so,  he  heard  a  rustle  a&  of 
gome  one  near,  and  a  light  footfall. 

He  started,  and  looked  up  in  horror.  The 
horror  passed  away,  and  was  succeeded  by 
amazement,  which  was  followed  by  utter  stu- 
pefaction. 

It  was  little  Rosette! 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

PRINCESS  nOSETTE. 

Protty  prinness  in  ilisgiiisp, 
From  her  prison  chamber  flios. 

At  length  Rosette  was  taken  from  the  Cam- 
pedoglio,  and  after  going  through  crowded 
streets  as  before,  she  found  herself  in  front  of 
a  magnificent  building.  Here  the  young  men 
who  had  been  drawing  her  stopped,  and  some 
■went  into  the  building,  while  others  waited 
about  outside.  Two  of  them  made  signs  to 
her,  and  beckoned,  fcho  at  once  descended, 
and  followed  them  into  the  building;  up  a 
flight  of  marble  steps,  into  the  first  story; 
then  up  another  flight,  into  the  second  story. 
And  then  into  another  room,  where  the  young 
men  took  leave  of  her  with  low  bows. 


in  the  room  were  some  wonu'ii.  A  table  was 
spread.  They  were  eating.  Tliere  were  some 
ladies  moving  about,  and  some  waiting  maids. 
All  regarded  Rosette  with  deep  interest.  One 
o(  tln!  ladies  spoke  to  her  in  French,  but  Ro- 
sette only  shook  her  head.  She  then  pointed 
to  the  tal)lo,  and  Rosette  was  only  too  hoppy 
to  seat  herself  ll^ere,  and  satisfy  the  keen  de- 
inuiids  of  !ip])etite,  for  she  had  been  without 
an3'thing  to  eat  since  early  morning. 

After  (his.  Rosette  began  to  look  around  her, 
and  meditat(!  upon  her  situation.  Bho  had 
every  reason  to  be  gratified  at  tho  changti  in 
her  j)hicc  of  residence,  but  still  she  felt  embar- 
riiased  at  not  being  able  to  find  out  in  what 
particular  room  she  was  to  stay.  Besides, 
there  was  the  old  diflleulty  of  th(3  dress.  She 
wished  to  get  rid  of  her  present  servile  cos- 
tume, and  appear  bc'fore  the  world  as  a  lady. 

Rosette  stood  at  the  window,  and  looked  out. 
It  was  a  spacious  sciuare,  with  fountains  and 
statues,  and  filled  with  a  great  crowd. 

What  I  particularly  want  to  know,  said  Ro- 
sette to  herself,  is,  what  I  am  to  do,  and  whtiro 
I  am  to  stay.  And  1  do  wonder  what  has  be- 
(lome  of  all  those  dear,  good,  nice  Judges,  and 
those  kind  Policemen.  How  funny  for  them 
to  send  me  to  this  splendid  place  without  a 
word!  Why,  it's  one  of  the  very  splendidest 
palaces  in  all  Rome.  Perhaps  the  Prefect  lives 
here,  and  they're  all  so  kind,  that  they  may 
have  asked  him  to  let  me  have  a  room  here — 
just  a  tiny,  tiny  room.  But  then  I  really  must 
get  my  luggage,  for  I  must  dress  properly,  or 
whnt  will  the  Prefect  think  of  me?  Perhaps 
they  hare  found  out  all  about  dear  papa.  I 
must  send  for  Freddie  to-morrow,  or  to-night, 
or  some  time  soon. 

Rosette  stood  looking  out,  wondering  where 
the  Judges  and  Policemen  had  gone;  and  why 
so  many  people  were  dressed  in  red  shirts; 
and  why  they  carried  guns;  and  who  she 
could  find  to  speak  to;  and  how  she  could  get 
her  luggage,  and  a  hundred  other  things,  all 
of  which  were  very  much  mixed  up  in  that 
busy  little  brain  of  hers;  but,  at  last,  she  grew 
tired  of  this,  and  began  to  think  that  it  Tvould 
be  very  pleasant  to  go  about  the  building— and, 
periiops,  she'd  meet  one  of  her  friends,  the 
Judges,  or  a  Policemat?,  or,  perhaps,  even  the 
Interpreter.    She  could  see  that  the  suite  raq 


i£^ 


THE  BABES  IN  THE  WOOD. 


85 


on  for  IV  loiiK  distiiiice,  room  iift(!r  room,  and 
all  tlio  (looi'H  wcro  oix'ii.  They  v/vni  very 
muKiiillceiit  rooms,  tho  walls  woro  liuiig  with 
picture,'!*;  thii  doors  of  (Mirioius  woods,  polished 
iiiid  waxed,  and  tho  ceiliuj^s  were  all  frescoed. 

So  slio  wandered  away  into  the  next  room, 
and  found  it  (luite  emi»ty ;  then  into  Iho  next, 
which  also  was  empty,  and  tlum  into  IIk^  next, 
and  then  the  next.  Great  was  her  wonder  at 
tliis. 

It's  just  exactly  liUe  a  fairy  story,  siiid  Ro- 
sette to  her.'^elf;  here  I  am,  KoiiiR  from  judaee 
to  pahn^e,  just  as  though  sonu)  fairy  was  draw- 
in;;  me  about.  First  I  went  as  maid  in  dis- 
;;uise— Ihen  a  wicked  enehanter  tornu'iited 
me,  (hen  the  gooil  fairy  sent  her  servants,  or 
l)erhaps  slu!  turned  a  melon  into  that  coach, 
and  perhaps  tlios(!  Judges  and  I'olieemen  were 
all  rats.  What  fun.  At  any  rate,  they've!  cer- 
taiidy  vanislu^d  in  Iho  most  extraordinary 
manner.  And  then  last  of  all  has  been  most 
wonderful.  It  was  just  as  if  my  fau'y  sent  all 
her  people  to  take  me  out  of  my  last  room, 
and  bring  me  hero  to  her  own  palace  in  tri- 
umph. And  they  all  pulled  me— and  one 
would  thiidfl  was  a  real  i)rinces9.  And  Miss 
Princess  Rosette,  will  yon  please  look  at  your- 
self now?  AVhero  are  j'on?  Is  (his  ]ialace 
youis?  Are  you  awake  or  aslcei)?  I  do  be- 
lieve I  am  asleep— and  yet  I  don't  want  to 
wako  myself  up.  If  I'm  in  Dreamland,  it's 
good  Dreamland.  Only  my  dinner  wasn't 
much  like  dreaming. 

So  she  walke<l  on,  someflme.s  stopping  to 
look  out  of  a  window,  at  othei-  times  to  look 
at  a  picture,  ami  once  01'  twice!  she  sat  down 
on  some  particularly  easy  chair  that  she  met 
with. 

I  really  would  give,  oh!  ever  so  much,  she 
thought,  if  I  only  knew  how  it  will  all  turn 
out,  and  what  it  all  means.  Those  Pattersons 
treated  me  like  a  scullion,  when  I  wasn't  one, 
and  these  Judges  treat  me  like  a  Princess, 
winch  I'm  not.  Wliat  wouldn't  I  give  if  it  all 
was  the  work  of  a  Faii'y— but  of  (Miurse  that's 
n  nsense.  But  I  know  what  I'd  like— I'd  liK-e 
them  to  bring  Freddie  here,  and  then  we'd  go 
together,  liainl  in  hand,  all  through  this  splen- 
did Palace,  like  Prince  and  Princess.  AVhat 
fun! 

Littlo   Ilosetto    wandered   along,    with    her 


miiul  full  of  tlu'se  happy  thoughts,  and  giving 
herself  (juite  up  to  I  hem  in  a  way  which  vraa 
thoroughly  eharactt-ristic  of  the  littlo  nniid; 
and  in  this  way  she  strolU;d  into  a  room  at 
last,  at  tilt!  end  of  a  suite,  into  which  who  bad 
taken  sevei'nl  steps  before  sho  becamo  aware 
that  there  was  souio  one  in  it. 

It  was  a  nuin! 

He  was  dressed  in  l)lack! 

Ho  was  seated  on  a  chair,  taking  off  his 
boots.  His  head  was  bent.  She  could  not  see 
his  face.  Suddenly  tho  man  started  and 
looked  up. 

Astonishment  filled  Rosette,  and  made  her 
for  a  moment  utterly  motionless. 

It  was  Patterson  I 

The  next  instant  she  recovered,  and  without 
knowing  what  she  did,  conscious  oidy  of  the 
desire  to  avoid  this  man,  slio  hurriedly  re- 
turned to  the  room  from  which  she  had  started. 

The  feelings  of  Rosette  at  this  unexpected 
meeting  were  of  such  a  kind  tlnit  it  is  not  easy 
to  oharaeteriz')  them.  It  was  <'ertainly  not 
fear.  It  was  rather  extreme!  dislike  and  re- 
((UgnaiU'e,  toge-theT  witli  a  vaguo  idea  that  be 
miglit  claim  lieT  as  his  servant. 

The  effect  which  this  meeting  had  tipon  her 
was,  howe-ve'r,  more  far-reaching  than  this. 
She  felt  somewhat  troubled.  It  was  like  a 
sliaele)w  amid  sunshine',  a  drop  of  gall  in  some 
swe'e't  draught. 

What  eleies  liei  want  here'?  How  did  he  come 
lie're"?  What  is  he  doing  here?  These  were  the 
epie'stieins  which  she'  jjut  to  bers(!lf.  He  was 
the'  last  pe'rson  whom  slu'woulel  havee'Xpecteil 
te)  flnel.  What  could  her  friends  want  of  him? 
Aiitl  what  did  he'  me'an  by  taking  his  boots  off 
in  that  raniiliar  fashiein. 

In  fae't,  tliis  little'  iiu'ident  of  his  drawing  off 
his  be)ots  (re)ul)led  Rosette!  more'than  even  his 
appearane'e  here.  It  loe)ke'd  so  ve'i'y  nnie'hUke 
takm;^  pe)ssession.  It  made  him  seem  so  eom« 
l)lit(ly  at  home',  and  what  sort  of  a  place 
ce)uld  that  bi'  foi-  Ri)se!tte,  in  winch  one  lilce 
Patlerse)n  ce)ule1  be'  at  home'?  It  coulel  be  110 
{)laee!  for  one<  like  heir. 

All  eif  a  suelelen  sho  felt  dissatisfleei  with  her 
position.  Tlie  sple'udors  of  the  palace  could 
ne)  longe'r  soothe!  her.  Damocles  sat  at  the 
baiKjiu't,  but  the!  sword  was  suspe'iided  over 
him.    To  make  it  worse,  it  began  to  look  verj 


86 


THE  BABES  IN  TUE  WOOD. 


muoh  as  though  he  vii\»  ht-io  in  deaplte  of 
her  good  frieiiil»,  the  Jiidgea  niid  PoliofinHii. 
His  appenraiioe  ooiiourrud  with  their  disnp- 
penruuoe.  It  looltud  very  inueli  na  thougli 
sbo  hnd  lost  lier  friends,  who  were  so  liind, 
and  once  more  come  into  contact  witli  tliose 
people  whom  she  dislilced.  Site  began  to 
thinl{  that  Mrs.  Patterson  might  mnltu  Iter  ap- 
pearance next,  with  all  her  vulgar  abuse  and 
rudeness. 

I've  a  very  great  mind  to  go  away,  slie 
Baid  to  herself,  and  try  and  And  Freddie. 
If  these  Pattersons  are  liere,  I  may  as  well 
give  up.  One's  patience  can't  stand  every- 
thing. Besides,  this  odious  dress  makes  me 
qui'e  awful  to  be  seen.  If  I  could  only  And 
Freddie,  he  could  advise  me  about  what  I 
ought  to  do.  If  I  could  only  And  a  Policeman, 
be  might  take  charge  of  me. 

Thus  there  were  three  very  powerful  rea- 
sons uniting  togetlier  to  lead  Rosette  away- 
one,  her  anxiety  to  get  some  proper  dress;  an- 
other, her  eagerness  to  see  "Freddie;"  and  a 
third,  her  dislike  of  the  Pattersons. 

She  did  not  take  long  to  make  up  her  mind. 
She  seemed  friendless  here.  Her  habit  of  day- 
dreaming, and  of  comparing  all  the  events  of 
real  life  with  those  of  fairy  lore,  made  her 
now  compare  Patterson  with  some  evil  magi- 
clan  who  once  had  her  in  his  power,  and  had 
succeeded,  by  his  wiles,  in  getting  lier  back 
again  from  the  good  fairies  who  had  rescued 
her.  In  which  case  the  only  thing  left  her 
wos  to  run  away. 

She  descended  the  stairs.  No  one  noticed 
her.  All  were  excited  about  something.  She 
went  out.  No  one  stopped  her.  Tlie  men  in 
red  had  nearly  all  gone.  The  guardians  of  the 
place  that  remained  were  gathered  in  knots, 
earnestly  discussing  something  of  all-absorb- 
ing interest. 

She  went  outside.  The  great  square  was 
quite  empty  and  deserted. 

She  knew  the  place  well  enougli,  for  she  was 
BufiBciently  familiar  w'tli  Rome,  and  at  once 
started  off  at  a  rapid  walk,  "  to  try  and  And 
Freddie."  Now,  Freddie's  lodgings  were  in 
the  same  building  as  the  Pattersons',  and  it 
would  be  necessary  for  her  to  go  tliere ,  al- 
though she  felt  dislike  toward  the  Patlcijons, 


and  repugnance,  she  was  not  one  whit  afraid 
of  them,  nor  would  shu  refuse  to  meet  them, 
if  necessary. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

ANXIOITS    INQUIRim  —  DESOLATIONS    AND    DSS- 
FAIK8. 

Soe  our  frionds  by  sorrow  tossed, 
Muurulug  {or  tbo  loved  and  lost. 

After  her  father  was  thus  borne  away, 
'Arrlet  was  crushed  by  the  blow,  and  sat  al- 
most paralyzed  with  liorror.  The  mamma 
showed  equal  feeling,  though  in  another  way. 
She  raged  like  a  lioness  deprived  of  her  mate, 
and  spent  all  the  rest  of  that  day,  and  all  the 
following  night,  in  promenatUiig  her  apart- 
ment, brandishing  an  umbrella,  and  medita- 
fin?,  to  herself,  viva  voce,  on  the  best  plan  of 
freeing  her  unha])py  spouse. 

It  happened  tliat  McOinty  dropped  in  for 
the  purpose  of  bidding  an  eternal  farewell,  a 
second  time,  to  Kitty;  but  the  face  with  which 
she  met  him  was  so  pale,  and  so  frightened,  and 
her  manner  was  so  agitated,  that  he  stared  at 
her  in  equal  emotion,  wondering  what  new 
thing  might  have  happened. 

Kitty,  iu  a  few  Imrried  words,  told  him  alU 
Upon  McGinty  tlie  effect  was  tremendous. 

"What,  Rosette!"  he  cried,  in  n  tone  of 
horror.  "Rosette!  The  Police!  Rosette— in 
the  hands  of  the  Police!  Oh,  Heavens!"  He 
stood  and  stared  at  Kitty,  as  though  he  bad 
taken  leave  of  his  senses.  She  said  nothing, 
but  regarded  him  with  the  same  pale  face  and 
frightened  look. 

"It  was  my  fault!  Oh,  Heavensl-if  any- 
thing happens  to  her  I  shall  never  be  able  to 
forgive  myself !" 

"Your  fault!" 

"I  brought  her  here— I  brought  her  here— 
where  she  iias  had  enemies,  who  have  found 
out  her  secret  and  betrayed  her.  It  was  my 
fault.    Slie  asked  me  to  take  her  away !" 

"I  don't  see  how  any  one  could  aave  betray- 
ed her." 

"  It  was  my  fault,"  repeated  McGinty.  And 
then  he  went  on  blaming  himself,  and  cursing 
himself,  while  Kitty  stood  looking  on  iu  amaze- 
ment and  perplexity. 

At  length  their  tete-a-teto  was  iutsrrupted 


\ 


>'■,' 


4^- 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


k{0 


> 


Vj 


1.0 


I.I 


**  IIIM  ilM 

'^  m  |||m 

12.0 


1.8 


1.25 

1.4 

1.6 

^ 

6"     - 

► 

Photographic 

Sdences 

Corporation 


s 


^^ 


iV 


s 


,v 


N> 


•S) 


V^  ..^  «-■* 


^^^^      ^17 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


Pi? 


: 


v\ 


\/ 


"<> 


s 


'^skyy 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


87 


by  the  entrance  of  Fred.  He  bowed  court- 
etiu»ly  to  Kitty,  and  coolly  to  McGinty,  who  in 
Ilia  dUtress  did  not  take  any  notice  of  him 
whatever. 

"I  hope,  Miss  Kinnear."  said  Fred,  "tbut 
you  do  not  have  any  huni  tlioughta  ngiiinst 
ine  for  that  unpleasant  scene  yesterday.  I 
assure  you  the  cause  was  sufUuient  to  justify 
any  violence  on  ray  part,  and  I  luive  bee" 
making  arrangements  to  take  poor  little  Itosie 
from  tills  place,  where  she  has  been  living  in 
an  infernally  false  position.  If  you  only  knew 
her  real  rank  and  character,  you  would  belior- 
riHed,  as  I  am,  at  the  baseness  of  the  man  that 
could  have  drawn  lier  into  such  disgrace.'' 

This  was  levelled  ot  Mc-Gin'y,  who,  however, 
in  the  anguish  of  iiis  self-reproach,  did  not 
seem  to  have  heard  it. 

"Mr.  Fotlierby,"8uid  Kitty,  in  a  tremulous 
voice,  "  you  liave  not  heard  the  awful  news." 

"Awful  news!"  8ai<l  Fred,  in  ii  startled  way ; 
"  what !— not  obout  little  Rosie?" 

Kitty  then  told  him. 

Fred  listened  as  one  struck  dumb.  Heseemed 
to  gasp  for  l)reath. 

"Who  did  it?"  he  cried.  "Who  sent  for 
them?    If  that  old  devil,  Patterson " 

Kitty  interrupted  liim  with  the  information 
tb..t  Patterson  also  was  arrested. 

"It's  some  infernal  plot,"  said  Fred.  "Some 
one  has  done  it.  and  I'll  hold  him  responsible. 
There's  only  one  man  that  I  know  of  that's 
been  at  the  bottom  of  all  of  Rosie's  troubles, 
and  you,  Smithers,  are  that  man.  Dy  Heaven, 
I'll  not  rest  till  I  have  your  heart's  blood." 

McOinty's  face  flushed  up  at  this,  and  his  eyes 
blazed. 

"No  man  shall  threaten  me  with  impunity," 
he  cried.  "This  is  the  second  time  tliat  you've 
taken  advantage  of  a  lady's  presence  to  insult 
me.  I'll  not  stand  it.  Come  along— now.  I'll 
give  you  satisfaction  to  your  heart's  content- 
aye,  and  have  it  too,  you  hot-headed  humbug, 
you." 

"  Oh,  gentlemen !"  cried  Kitty,  wildly.  "  Oh, 
gentlemeni  stop,  stopi  Oh,  listen  to  reason  I 
You  both  feel  anxious  about  Rosette.  Don't 
quarrel  now.  Defer  your  quarrel  till  she  is 
saved.  Moments  are  precious.  While  you 
quarrel  she  is  in  danger.  The  Police  must  have 
been  on  her  track.     They've  found  her  by 


their  spies.  They've  arrested  Mr.  Patterson 
for  harboring  her.  Her  father  is  suspeoted 
by  them.    She  is  implicated  with  him." 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  cried  Fred.  "  Her  fother 
is  an  English  gentleman." 

"  He  has  got  into  trouble  here  at  any  rate," 
said  Kitty,  "and  that's  the  reasou  why  Rosette 
cunie  here  in  disguise." 

"By  Jove,"  cried  Fred,  "that's  what  she 
must  have  meant  then,  when  she  spoke  about 
her  father's  secret." 

"Of  course  it  was,"  said  Kitty.  "Mr. 
Smithers  found  her  this  hiding  place  at  her 
faf.icr's  request." 

"Mr.  Smithers,"  said  Fred.  %ith  boyish  frank- 
ness, "  I  daresay  I've  misunderstood  you,  and  if 
I  have  I'll  give  you  all  tliesat  isfaction  you  wish." 

"Thank  you,"  said  McGinty,  dryly;  "ond 
now  Mr.  Fotherby,  since  you  assume  a  more 
civil  tone,  I  don't  mind  explaining  about  Ro- 
sette's coming  liere."  And  thereupon  Mc- 
Ginty proceeded  to  give  n  full  account  of  the 
whole  affair  up  to  the  present  time. 

"  Mr.  Smithers,"  said  Fred.  "  I  owe  you  an 
apology,  and  I  make  it  frankly,  but  at  tlie 
same  time  you  must  see  that  it  was  confound- 
edly hard  forme  to  see  Rosie  in  such  a  position 
— knowing  her  people  so  well — and  feeling  to- 
ward her  as  I  do.  Wliat  made  it  worse,  was 
that  she  wouldn't  confide  in  me  at  all,  but  kept 
perpetually  referring  to  you,  until  I  imagined 
no  end  of  misebitf.  At  the  same  time  I  can't 
imagine  wliat  made  Merivale  such  a  fool  as  to 
bother  about  politic*.  But  as  it  is,  we  musn't 
waste  any  more  time — so  I'm  off." 

At  this  moment  tlie  Countess appeored.  She 
asked  in  her  usual  toue  after  the  funiily,  and 
it  was  with  a  start  of  horror  that  she  learned 
from  Fred  the  painful  intelligence. 

"Dio  Mio!"  she  cried,   "dePolizie 1    Eet 

is  adlfflcoltapoliticule.  De  Low  in  Romn  ees 
severa.  In  Roma  de  f orestieri  moos  nevare  tjciix 
demself  wit  politick." 

Fred  eagerly  asked  her  if  anything  could  be 
done. 

The  Countess  shook  her  head  and  sighed— she 
did  not  understand  anything  about  "deLow." 

"  Ah,  de  Signer  Pattusino,"  sui^l  she,  regret- 
fully ;  "  it  grief  me  for  him.  K  was  a  vero 
cuvallerede  donne— nobile,  gentele,  and  polito 
—an  de  Rooetlina,  it  grief  me  more  for  her. 


88 


THE  BABES  m  THE  WOOD. 


I  BOW  (lat  she  wna  a  tloniiar— I  ailaimiiitt  er  to 
destrazioiie,  nii'  I  conic  to-dny  to  take  cr  tome 
till  her  fader  come  back— tie  Milor  Mcrirale. 
Ah,"  continued  the  Countess,  "ladamnrraer 
operitualita,  Bimplicita,  vivacita,  gentik-zzi), 
vellczza;  she  WU8  so  cliarmaut  in  de  role  of 
Mlguon— an  ow  (le  ci};noriolllo<'e  er  to  distra- 
zione.  Dty  all  inlluniitiati,  infuriati,  arrabiaii 
to  er— an  she  eea  in  difQcolta  iiolilicala- dat  is 
«harraant  for  er— for  an  agcnte  of  de  Rcpub- 
licaui  to  be 80  vczzosia-so  subtile  wit  so  much 
deliuntezza.  She  is  dc  mos  admiiabile  artisia 
dat  I  ever  sow.    Dio  uiio!" 

The  Countess  did  not  seem  cnpable  of  nn- 
derstaudiug  that  the  simplicity  of  lloscttc 
might  be  real  and  natural.  She  seemed  not 
able  to  think  of  natui(>,  except  as  rougli, 
■while  to  her  no  rcflncmcnt  was  possible,  ex- 
cept it  was  Ihe  work  of  art.  To  her  Rosettes 
Tery  artlessucss  seemed  to  be  tlie  most  perfect 
art;  and  if  the  art  was  invisil)le,  it  was  all  tlie 
higher,  on  the  principle  of  ars  est  cclarc  artcm 
(true  art  is  to  conceal  art). 

Kittj'  understood  Rosette  differently.  81ie 
believed  in  lier.  Now,  so  true  was  the  Count- 
ess to  her  own  theory,  (hat  she  thought  tliis 
Btatement  of  Kitty's  to  be  merely  Kitty's  art, 
OA  though  she  miglit  wit<h  to  emulate  Rosette 
in  innocence  and  naivete. 

"Dio  Mlo!  you  one  drole,  an  very  char- 
mant.  Dio  mio,  eet  is  miravole  to  me.  De 
iDgelces  haf  not  de  reputnzione  to  haf  de  higli 
art  in  manner,  but,  Dio  raio,  I  haf  met  wit  two 
donne  Inglese  dat  sorpassa  do  Italiaue,  far— 
for— farroway.  One  ees  de  Hoaettinu,  an  de 
Oder  ees  de  Kittiua." 

And  at  this  the  Countess  playfully  tapped 
"de  Klttina's"  xhoulder  with  her  parasol. 

At  this,  Fred  put  in  his  oar,  and  warmly 
vindicated  Rosette  from  the  charge  which  the 
Countess  seemed  to  convey,  as  to  lier  being  an 
artist.  He  told  all  about  the  past  of  Rosette— 
their  life  together.  He  grew  eloquent  about 
that  past,  and  was  overcome  by  bis  own  elo- 
quence. 

"Aha,  'ow  you  moos  lofe  'er,"  said  the 
Ck)untesa. 

" Love  her!"  said  Fred.  "  Course  I  do.  Lay 
down  my  life  for  her  a  dozen  times  over." 

"  Why,  I  think  she  roust  be  the  dearest  little 
thing  I  ev^r  aaw  In  all  my  life,"  said   Kitty, 


brightening  up  for  a  moiueut  Into  a  little  of 
her  iormer  hyperbole. 

"Ah!"  said  the  Countess;  "but  you  moos 
not  ope  to  ave  all  de  ladies.  Dees  ees  Roma, 
de  capital  of  Cliristiancsimo.  Eel  is  not  Islam. 
You  afe  been  Daphnis  and  Chioe,  but  now  you 
moos  bi^  addio  to  your  Cliloc." 

"Never,"  said  Fred,  starting  up.  "I  must 
go  now— to  see  if  I  can't  find  her.  Every  ujo- 
nient  's  precious,  and  I've  been  losing  too  muoh 
time." 

He  bade  a  hurried  adieu  to  the  ladies,  and 
went  off.  McGiuty  renioined  a  little  longer, 
hoping  to  be  al)l('  to  liid  an  eleriial  farewtll  to 
Kitiy ;  but  the  Countess  was  loo  muchfor  blm, 
and  so  he  soon  followed  Fred. 


CHAPTER  XXXIIL 

TUE  HAMMA  AND  THE  IIENOLISII  IIAMBAS8AD0B. 

Liston  to  niamma'8  hurntion, 
At  'Er  Majesty's  legation. 

_  The  uml)rtlla  which  the  mamma  used  in 
promenading  tlie  room  seemed  to  act  as  a  stim- 
ulus (o  her  energies,  enabling  her  to  emphasize 
with  additional  foi'ce  any  of  the  numerous 
conclusions  which  she  readied  ;  and  so  it  waa 
that,  at  length,  wlicn  morning  came,  instead 
of  being  in  a  state  of  exhaustion,  the  mamma 
was  more  fresli,  more  energetic,  and  more  res- 
olute than  ever. 

She  had  come  to  a  great  conclusion. 

Slie  would  go  to  SCO  the  Oritisli  Ambaazndor, 
and  Invoke  the  vengeance  of  England  on  the 
kidnajipcrs  of  her  husband. 

Ac(!ordliigly,  she  had  her  carriage  at  the 
door  as  soon  as  she  could  rouse  the  coachman; 
and  then  fortifying  herself  vitli  some  cordial, 
and  nerving  herself  up  to  the  exigencies  of  Ihe 
hour,  she  stalked  forth  witi'.  her  umlirella,  and 
ascending  her  carriage,  she  ordered  the  coach- 
man to  drive  to  the  Dritish  Embassy. 

Haughty  footmen  lounged  about  the  en- 
trance, yet  the  mamma  cared  nothing  for  the 
glittering  splendors  of  the  bepowdered  and 
beplushed  flunkeys,  but  with  the  native  dlg> 
ulty  of  a  British  matron,  she  asked  the  first 


' 


1 


"WP 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


80 


I 


one  she  saw  to  take  her  at  ouce  to  "  'Is  Grace, 
the  Hamlmsaailor." 

The  flunkey  eyed  her  superciliously  from 
head  to  foot,  and  innrclied  off  williout  a  word. 

Tlie  mamma  tliouKlit  lie  liiid  gone  to  tell  the 
Hambnasudor,  and  so  waited  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, while  the  other  flunkeys  stared  and  gig- 
gled. At  length,  becoming  conscious  of  this, 
and  feeling  n  very  natural  impatience  at  the 
delay,  she  turned  to  the  flunkeys,  and  said  : 

"  'Eire,  young  man— any  one  of  you  painted 
cockatoos— atop  your  gigglink  for  a  time,  an' 
take  me  to  'Is  Grace,  the  Hambassador,  as  I 
can't  wait." 

At  this,  the  flunkeys  all  burst  out  into  a  wild 
baw,  haw. 

"Is  this  the  way,"  cried  the  mamma,  "  that 
the  Hambassador  of  Ilengland  'as  'is  dooties 
done,  an'  'im  paid  a  salary  big  enough  to  feed 
the  Royal  Fambly  ?  'E  shall  'ear  of  this— a  lot 
of  lazy,  padded,  painted  rufflnks,  that  ain't  got 
hanythink  better  to  do  than  to  hinsult  ladies. 
Come,  now,  one  of  you'd  best  be  hoff,  an'  do 
vui  I  bid." 

"This  'ere's  what  I  call  rich,  ain't  it,  Cliawles?" 
■aM  one  of  the  lackeys,  leaning  back  with  an 
air  of  graceful  abandon. 

"Witch  and  wawe,"  said  another,  wiio  was 
cullivatingadifficulty  with  his  'r's;'  "stwange 
hold  pa wty— little  hout  in  the  'ed,  I  fancy." 

"Well,  if  'Is  Grace  don't  make  you  smart 
for  this,  I'm  mistaken,"  said  the  mamma,  in  a 
rape.  "  I'll  'ave  to  'unt  'Im  up  myself.  Which 
is  the  State  Ilapartments?  will  you  tell  me 
that?" 

This  only  elicited  a  fresh  roar  of  laughter, 
which  made  the  raamma  only  the  more  excited. 
But  she  controlled  her.self,  for  she  remember- 
ed her  dignity,  and  turning  her  back  upon  the 
pampered  menials,  took  a  glance  around. 

A  stately  flight  of  stairs  was  In  front.  She 
(Talked  toward  these,  nnd  ascended  them. 

"She's  mad— stop  her,  Chawlcs,"said  one  of 
the  lackeys. 

"  Stop  'er  yourself,"  said  the  other.  "  I  does 
my  dooty  helsewhere." 

"Well,  I  got  nothink  to  do  about  It,"  said  a 
third. 

The  mamma  marohea  up,  and  on,  brandish- 
ing her  umbrella.  She  met  a  chambermaid, 
who  stared  at  her  in  slleuoe,  but  said  nothing. 


"  Which  might  be  the  hofQce  of  'Is  Grace  the 
Hambassador?"  asked  the  mamma,  very  po- 
litely. 

The  girl  stared,  and  then  pointed  to  a  door 
down  the  passage  way.  The  mamma  thanked 
her,  and  walked  toward  the  door,  wliile  the 
chambermaid  stood  staring  after  her  with  a 
perplexed  face. 

The  mamma  entered  the  room. 

It  was  a  large  apartment,  with  a  large  table 
at  one  end,  at  which  sat  a  little  man,  writing. 
So  lotent  was  he  on  his  occupation,  that  h« 
did  not  hear  her  as  she  entered.  Anxious  not 
to  be  disturbed,  the  mamma  closed  tlie  door 
carefully,  and  then  advancing  toward  the 
table,  came  close  up  to  It  without  being 
noticed. 

The  little  man  was  gray-lieaded,  with  a 
florid  face  and  small  liands.  Tlie  mamma 
waited  for  a  little  while,  and  as  he  did  not  no- 
tice  her.  she  cleared  her  throat  to  attract  bis 
attention. 

At  this  the  little  man  looked  up  with  a  start. 

"  Are  you  'Is  Grace  the  British  Hambassa- 
dor?" asked  the  mamma,  in  lier  blandest  man- 
ner. 

T!;e  little  man  stareil,  then  looked  all  around, 
then  stunnl  again,  and  tiieii  leaned  back  in  hit 
chair,  witi.  a  face  of  fury. 

"  Who  the are  you  ?"  he  cried.    "  I  don't 

know  you.    Wh.At  the  are   you   doing  in 

this  room?" 

The  mamma  at  this  raised  her  umbrella, 
with  the  mild  and  warning  gesture  with  wbicb 
a  good  find  patient  mo'hor  hushes  a  hot  tem- 
pered child. 

"  I,  Your  Grace,"  said  she,  with  dignity, 
"am  a  lady  and  a  British  subjlck.  My  'us- 
band  has  been  hayrestod  by  the  bloody  Police 
horfleers,  and  is  now  in  a  dungeon,  which  bis 
ony  hoffenee  Is  that  be  Is  afree-boriied  Bilton, 
nil'  never  did  nor  said  a  single  wcu'il  agin  any- 
body, an'  one  of  the  kindest  an'  lovlngest  'art- 
ed  men  that  ever  lived,  which  tlie  Ilimps  of 
this  Brimstone  Babylon  'ave  seized  nn'  kld- 
nap{)ed  'Im  under  my  very  nose,  an*  me  lefl 
alone  in  the  world  with  my  'Arrlet,  as  Isn't  fit 
to  take  care  of  'erself.  an'  Is  frlkened  to  death 
for  fear  they'll  come  an'  nab  me,  too,  an'  take 
me  to  the  plaoe  of  Tormlnk." 

The  little  man  sat  staring  in  amaisement  at 


90 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


all  tbl«,  )ii«  only  thought  beiug  that  the  wo- 
man was  rand.  With  this  tliought  hu  rose 
from  his  oiiuir,  nnd  wns  about  to  po  to  the 
bell-pull,  80  ns  to  summon  the  servants.  But 
the  mnmnia  saw  tliis,  and  calmiy  t>ut  (Irmiy 
put  herself  in  bis  way.  Her  attitude,  lior  um- 
brella, and,  above  all,  her  eye,  all  seemed  so 
formidable  to  (he  little  man,  that  he  retreated 
and  put  his  chair  between  himself  and  his 
dreadful  visitor. 

•'  You  seem  frikened,"  said  the  mamma, 
mildly  "I'll  be  us  meek  ns  n  babe  uuboiii'd. 
But  my  'usbnnd  is  in  n  dungeon,  an'  is  being 
tormented  l)y  tlie  Ilimps  of  the  Poliee,  nnd  I 
come  to  yen  for  'elp.'' 

"What  do  you  wart  with  me?"  said  the 
other,  looking  nervously  around,  nnd  not  feel- 
ing mu(!h  re-assured. 

"My 'usband'sbe'n  bnyrested.  I  want  you 
to  get  'im  out  of  is  dungeon.  1  want  you  to 
oome  along  w  lb  me  to  the  Guv'mint  nn' de- 
mnnd  my  'usbsmd  nt  the  ennning's  mouth." 

"  The  Government,"  faltered  the  other. 

"Yes,"  snid  the  mnmmn;  "ibf  Bloated  Ty- 
runt  and  Despot.  You're  the  Hambossndor, 
I  s'pose?" 

"Yes." 

"Then  come  niong  nt  onoe.  Hurry  up, 
your  grace.  My  man's  in  a  dreadful  bad 
place." 

"  Do  you  really  mean  that  your  husband  has 
been  arrested?" 

"  Yes." 

"What's  his  name?" 

"  William  Patterson,  Exquire." 

"What  for?" 

"  Nothink." 

"  What  was  the  charge?" 

"  Nothink." 

"  Very  well— very  well.  I'll  see  about  it  at 
onoe,"  said  the  Ilambossador.  "And  now,  don't 
detain  me." 

"See  about  It  nt  onst?  Come  along  then," 
■aid  the  mamma. 

"All  right— all  light.  I'll  nttend  to  it  ns 
aooD  as  possible.    You  needn't  wait." 

"Wait?  No— indeed  I  won't  waif.  I  want 
you  to  come  along  at  oust,"  said  the  mamma. 

"  Nonsense,"  said  the  Ilambassador.  "  I 
can't  go  at  onoe— I  must  cummunioat<-,  flrst, 
with  His  Erainenoe,  the  Secretary  of  State." 


"Oh!  you  must,  must  you?"  said  the 
mamma,  iu  her  most  sarcnstio  tone. 

"Yes,"  said  the  Humbassador;  "and  I'll 
write  to-day." 

"Obi  you'll  ttTttc,  will  you?"  said  f^je,  in 
the  same  tone. 

"Yes— and  now,  my  good  woman- go " 

The  Hambassndor  waved  his  baud  impul- 
sively. 

The  mamma  stood  with  umbrella  uplifted. 

"  Oo,  is  it?  and  so,  mister  Ilambnssador, 
that's  all  you've  got  to  say  to  n  ))oor  woman 
when  'er  unfortnit  'usband's  been  seized  by 
the  Police,  an'  clupt  in  cliains!  Go- -nnd  wait 
—and  you'll  write!  And  you  call  j'ourself  the 
Ilnmbassador,  and  of  free  Ilenglnnd.  Let  me 
tell  you  this.  Mister  Hnmbns.'udor,  I'm  nBrit- 
ish  subjick.  My  man  pays  'is  taxes  in  'nrd 
cash  to  keep  you  'ere,  an'  all  you  do  is  to  keep 
n  lot  of  cockatoo  flunkeys  tohinsult  women  iu 
distress,  which  comes  to  you  and  gets  no  satis- 
faction—nothing but  go,  nnd  wait,  and  write. 
But  this  ere  case  of  mine  nin't  to  be  trifled 
about.  I  demnnd  nnd  call  on  you  to  come 
along  this  binslant;  take  me  to  the  Police  nud 
make  them  give  up  my  'usband." 

"The  woman's  mad!"  said  the  Hambassndor, 
at  his  wit's  end,  nnd  not  knowing  how  to  end 
this  without  some  uudlgnifled  scene. 

"Mnd!"  cried  the  mnmma,  stimg  to  the 
quick  by  this  imputation.  "Mnd!  I'll  soon 
show  you!  I'll  write  to  the  Times.  I'll  tell 
tbem  'ow  you  nn'  your  flunkeys  hinsult  Brit- 
ons iu  distress— 'ow  you're  n  'umbng  an' 
traitor— 'ow  you're  a  disgrace  to  your  sex! 
Look  out.  I  make  my  request  for  the  last 
time.  I  call  on  you  to  come  with  me  to  the 
Police  nnd  demand  my  'usband  nt  the  can- 
ning's mouth,  in  the  name  of  the  Queen  of 
Henglaud;  an'  then,  if  be  don't  give  him  up 
at  ojuie,  I  call  on  you  to  send  for  the  British 
Fleet  nn'  border  them  to  bombard  Rome  till 
my  'usband  is  sot  free  from  'is  dungeon.  I 
call " 

But  at  this  instant  hurried  footsteps  were 
heard,  nnd  two  gentlemen  entered. 

"  Henvens,  Merivnie,  you're  just  in  timel" 
cried  the  Hambassndor.  "  Ring  the  bell,  like  a 
good  fellow,  will  you— and  pack  this  mad  wo- 
man out." 

The  mamma  began  onoe  more  to  rave,  but 


THE  BABES  IN  THE  WOOD. 


91 


the  bell  fvnfl  rung,  aud  the  flunkeys  cnrae,  and 
Blie  found  hertielf  iu  a  few  moments  deposited 
ou  the  strebt  iu  frout  of  the  Embassy. 


iimil—  ' 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

THK  WANDERINGS  OF   THE  MAMMA. 

Poor  mamma,  your  (carriage  horses 
Are  frightened  at  the  Roman  foroesi 

Thus  tlie  niammii  wus  iguominiously  dis- 
mis^ied  by  the  hiiughty  Ambnusiuior  and  his 
pampered  menials.  Her  rage  and  astonish- 
ment were  inexpressible.  For  some  time  she 
oould  not  speak  or  even  thinic.  She  stood 
staring  baek  at  tliodoorway  while  the  flunkeys 
giggled,  and  Joliii  Thomas  made  a  witty  re- 
mark to  Cliawics ;  and  Jeames  indulged  in 
'gome  delicate  chaff;  and  William  slyly  said, 
"Walkerl"  and  all  laughed  joyously  and 
bilariously. 

At  length  the  mamma  came  to  herself,  and 
the  thought  of  her  errand  returned  in  time  to 
prevent  tier  suffocating  with  fury.  'Er  'us- 
bundl  'E!  'Im!  Enough.  Let  her  defer 
her  vengeance  on  the  Ilambassador  till  'E  was 
saved.  But  'ow?  'Oo?  She  could  think  of 
nothing  in  particular,  but  it  occurred  to  her 
that  the  best  course  would  bo  to  drive  about 
the  city  everywhere,  and  perhaps  she  might 
«ee  something  of  him— or  meet  with  some  one 
who  might  be  able  to  assist  her.  This  she  de- 
cided on,  and  entering  once  more  into  her  car- 
riage, she  drove  away. 

The  streets  were  more  crowded  than  usual, 
and  tlio  people  were  gathering  in  knots,  con- 
versing in  low  tunex.  Bands  of  soldiers  were 
oocasionally  encountered.  Of  all  these  things, 
however,  tlie  maumia  took  but  little  note. 
Her  attention  was  directed  to  (circumstances 
which  miglit  lead  to  the  liberation  of  her 
husband ;  and  knots  of  Italians  or  bands  of 
soldiers  did  not  seem  to  belong  to  this  catagory. 

For  some  hours  she  drove  about  witliout 
being  nearer  a  decision  than  when  she  started, 
until  at  length  something  struck  her  eye, 
which  suggested  a  thought,  wliich  flashed  into 
her  mind,  which  instantly  begun  to  play  about 
it,  and  to  construct  out  of  it  the  fabric  of  a 
highly  original  plan.    The  ol)ject  which  the 


mamma  saw  was  a  robe— the  ro'.ie  of  a  monk. 
It  was  hanging  fu  ttie  doorway  of  a  shop,  and 
seemed  to  l>  \>2r;osed  for  sale,  together  with 
othi-r  objects  of  a  miscellaneous  cliaraoter. 
No  sooner,  therefore,  had  the  mamma  come  to 
a  decision  about  this  than  slie  ordered  the 
carriage  back,  and  soon  reached  the  shop. 
Quitting  the  carriage  she  entered  and  looked 
around. 

The  shop  seemed  like  the  establishment  of  a 
coustumiere,  who  might  supply  attire  for 
masquerade  purposes,  or  for  tlie  Iht'atre,  or 
opera,  or  pantomime.  Dresses  ol  every  con- 
ceivable sort  hung  all  around,  or  lay  folded  on 
shelves.  There  were  nniny  ecclesiastical 
dresses,  and  these  were  the  ones  in  which  the 
mamma  was  interested.  These  whe  proceeded 
to  examine,  and  the  propiietor  stepped  up 
witli  a  profusion  of  bows. 

At  length  she  found  one  which  suited  her 
purpose.  How  much?  she  asked  of  the  shop- 
keeper. The  man  understood  from  her  face 
aud  tone  what  she  said,  aud  held  up  five  fingers 
saying: 

"Cinque  scudi." 

The  mamma  saw  the  Ave  Angers  and  knew  it 
was  five  something;  so  she  drew  forth  her 
purse.  There  happened  to  be  notliing  smaller 
in  it  than  some  Bank  of  England  five-pound 
notes,  except  some  small  Italian  silver  coin. 
The  mamma  showed  him  one  of  tlie.ie  notes. 

The  man  bowed,  took  it,  boned  again,  went 
back  to  his  money  l)ox,  turned  over  his  money, 
came  buck  again  to  mamma,  bowed  and  said 
something  to  her  in  Italian,  with  gestures,  and 
smiles,  and  l)ows. 

From  which  the  mamma  guessed  that  he  was 
telling  her  thiit  he  had  no  ciiaiige,  but  would 
go  out  and  get  it  for  her.  This  was  a  thing 
which  the  mamma  would  have  felt  no  hesita- 
tion al)out  in  London,  but  in  Rome  she  did  not 
feel  the  same  degree  of  confldence.  Still  she 
was  excessively  eager  to  have  the  costume— 
her  plan  depended  on  this,  and  so  she  hesi- 
tated. It  is  said  that  "The  woman  who  hesi- 
tates islost."  It  was  true  in  this  instance,  for 
the  dealer  taking  silence  for  consent,  made  a 
few  more  bows,  and  hurried  out  with  the 
amial)le  intention  of  not  returning  in  person, 
at  least  until  the  lady  bad  retired. 

The  mamma  took  the  robe  in  her  arm,  and 


92 


THE  BABES  IN  TUE  WOOD. 


waited.    Timo  pusst^d.    The  triidcr  oame  not. 
She  stood  h)ol{iiig  first  up  nud  tlieii  down. 

As  she  did  so  sliu  was  iiwnn-  of  ii  sudden  ngi- 
talion  in  tlie  street.  People  enino  wall<ing 
quickly  and  looking  around  an.xiou8ly.  The 
coaelunan  was  looking  all  around,  in  a  very 
uneasy  fiisliion.  He  spoko  to  some  passers  by. 
Passers  l)y  nuawered  vaguely.  Coaclinuui 
hinted  to  Matnuia  that  slio  had  better  eome. 
Mamma  couldn't  come  til).  Dealer  returned. 
Dealer  still  delayed. 

At  last  a  rattling  sound  wos  heard  from  afar, 
—horse  hoofs  on  stone  pavement.  A  sliout,  a 
rush,  a  wild  outcry  of  people  running,  leap- 
ing, dodging.  A  dozen  or  so  rushed  into  the 
shop,  over-turning  the  mamma  and  severely 
bruising  her.  Then  there  came  the  gallop  of 
many  horses. 

When  at  length,  the  mamma  picked  herself 
up,  and  managed  to  extricate  herself  from  the 
crowd,  and  gain  the  door  of  the  shop,  and  look 
out  into  the  street,  she  saw  to  her  amazement 
that  the  street  was  empty. 

Empty  I 

For  its  whole  length,  as  far  as  her  eye  could 
reach — empty ;  not  a  soul,  except  those  whose 
heads  were  visible  peeping  from  doors  and 
windows.  Empty,  and  her  carriage  gone,  and 
her  coachnmn.  For  the  dragoon  cliarge  which 
had  just  taken  place  had  cleared  the  streets 
effectually,  and  the  carriage  and  the  horses  and 
the  driver  had  fled  before  it  in  wil  \,  tumultuous 
flight. 

Of  this  the  mamma  knew  nothing.  She  ex- 
pected that  the  driver  would  come  for  her;  and 
therefore  waited.  The  others  who  had  taken 
refuge  there  waited  also.  At  length  they 
dropped  off  one  by  one,  venturing  out  into  the 
cold  world.  The  mamma  waited.  The  driver 
came  not.    The  shop-keeper  came  not. 

In  short  the  mamma  waited  there  until  near- 
ly evening  and  neither  driver  nor  shop-keeper 
returned. 

The  momma  could  not  stay  any  longer.  She 
had  lost  a  day.  She  sought  to  go  to  her  home. 
But  alas!  she  had  not  the  address  of  her  house, 
and  knew  no  more  about  Rome  than  of  Pekln. 
Still  she  hoped  that  she  might  hoppen  upon  it, 
and  in  this  hope  she  wandered  on.  The  street 
was  crooked,  and  terminated  In  another 
orooked  street,  which  led  her  into  a  square, 


from  which  she  passed  into  another  crooked 
street;  and  so  on  and  on,  from  street  to  street, 
walked  that  poor  mamma,  for  two  mortal 
hours,  until  at  last  she  found  herself  in  frout 
of  a  gnat  big  building  tliat  she  thought  might 
be  an  Hotel.  And  she  saw  in  front  of  the  great 
big  building  a  man  with  red  wliiskers,  that  she 
thought  might  bt)  an  Englishman.  Where- 
upon she  went  up  to  him,  and  dropped  a  very 
low  courtesy,  and  said  to  him,  by  way  of  intro- 
duction : 

"  Good  evening,  sir ;  I  hope  you're  quite  well." 

Whereat  the  man  with  the  red  whiskers 
stared  at  her  very  coldly  and  strangely. 

Upon  wliicli  tlie  mannua  said : 

"  Can  you  tell  me,  good,  kind  sir,  If  this  'ere 
'ouse  is  a  Hinu?" 

And  the  Englishman  (if  he  was  an  English- 
man, as  is  very  probable,)  looked  at  her  leis- 
urely from  head  to  foot,  with  a  stony  stare, 
then  turned  his  back,  and  then  abrnptl; 
nnlked  away. 

And  the  n)amma  walked  away  very  sadly, 
and  she  thought  that  this  man  was  very  rude 
—and  she  was  quite  right ;  and  I  may  add  that 
there's  more  snubbing  going  on  among  English- 
men than  among  any  other  race  of  artioulato 
speaking  men. 


CHAPTEK  XXXV. 

THE    MAMMA     FINUH    BEST. 

After  perils  without  number 
Pour  mamma  finds  rest  in  slumber. 

So  the  poor  maunna  wondered  on,  very 
weary,  very  sad,  very  anxious,  through  the 
strange  streets*  of  a  strange  city,  now  mourning 
over  her  lost  money,  now  groaning  over  her 
weary  feet,  now  melting  in  pity  over  her  poor 
husband,  now  wildly  gazing  round  upon  the 
pitiless  house  fronts,  or  the  unsympathetic 
foreign  faces.  At  last  she  came  to  a  street 
which  was  better  looking  than  those  among 
which  she  had  been  wandering,  and  there  she 
saw  a  large  house,  and  over  the  door  was  a 
small  sign,  with  the  words  "HoUil  Ingleae," 
and  under  it  another  sign,  with  the  words, 
"  English  Spoken."  Andthewid  heart  of  the 
poor, weary  mamma  swelled  with  hone  and  joy. 


THE  BABES  IN  TUE   WOOD. 


U3 


i 


She  wnlkud  In,  nnd  gpoko  to  the  first  munshu 
met.    lie  looked  like  a  waiter. 

■'Uthisallliin?" 

The  man  Mliook  liis  liead. 

"  Ilutfl— Ilotfl,"  said  the  mamma. 

"  Hotel— 8i  8l,"  said  the  man. 

"  Do  you  Bpeuk  HenKlisli  ?" 

"  lu^lfse,  si  8i;  uspotti  un  poc,'  "  and  hurry- 
ing away,  he  soon  ri-turnod  with  another  wait- 
er, wlio  was  the  Engiisli  Spoker. 

Wiilch  Eunlish  8pok(!r  wish'-d  to  say  to  tlio 
mummn  in  Euglish— what  do  y^u  wuut7— and 
be  said : 

"  Wliat  ees  youuir  name?" 

"Name?"  said  the  mamma,  in  surprise. 
"  Wliy,  Ptttti-rson." 

"Ah!  Pater— diit  ees  padre;  son,  flgllo—you 
want  padre  e  tlglio?"  And  then  he  explained 
to  ttie  other  that  the  lady  wanted  her  father 
and  lier  son.  Upon  tliix,  ho  proceeded  to  ask 
tlie  name,  and  he  said : 

"What  ees  de  wish  of  dem?" 

"Wish?"  said  the  niamma.  "I  wish  to  get 
a  lodging  for  tike  night." 

"  Night— ah— Signer  Niglit.    Dey  not  'ere." 

And  he  shook  liis  head  solemnly. 

"I  want  a  bed— a  room,"  said  the  mamma, 
wearily,  "  sleep— sleepy— beddy,"  and  putting 
her  head  on  one  side,  she  half-closed  her  eyes, 
watcldng  the  waiter  through  the  lids,  opened 
hermoutli,  and  snored  several  times. 

The  waiters  both  burst  into  shrieks  of  laugh- 
ter. 

Upon  this,  another  man  came  up,  and  with 
a  low  bow,  asked  the  mamma,  in  fair  Eng- 
lisli,  what  she  was  after. 

"Oh,  thank  you,  kind  sir,"  said  tlio  mam- 
ma. "I  did  want  a  lodging,  but  I  thiuk  I'd 
like  to  get  a  kerridgu  or  a  keb." 

The  man  shook  his  liead. 

"  f  ou  can't  get  one,"  he  said.  "  Dey  all 
gone." 

"  Or,  if  I  could  only  get  'ome,  and  find  some 
one  to  show  me  where  it  is." 

"  Ees  it  farraway  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  where  it  is.    I'm  lost." 

Tlie  man  looked  at  ber  with  pity  and  sur- 
prise, 

Tlie  mamma  at  last  succeeded  in  explaining, 
and  the  end  of  it  was,  that  she  got  a  room, 
and  made  a  substantial  dinner,  and  went  to 


l)ed,  and  slept  like  a  top,  and  awaked  the  next 
morning  prepared  to  undertake  the  duties 
of  another  day. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

THE  MAMMA   UIHUU18EH    UERSELF,  AND   PLUNQU 

INTO  TUE  TlinONCJ. 

Bravo  mamma,  to  our  8urpri8p, 

Is  going  ruuuJ  iu  qiiuor  dlHguise. 

Now,  when  the  good  mamma  awoke  on  the 
following  morning,  tliere  arose  within  har 
mind  a  very  surlous  and  solemn  debate  as  to 
the  best  course  to  be  adopted  by  iier,  and  as 
to  what  she  ought  to  do  next.  Two  or  more 
plans  lay  before  her.  One  of  these  was  to  go 
back  home,  join  her  daughter,  and  try  to  pro- 
cure  tlie  assistance  of  tlie  law,  if  sucli  a  thing 
oould  be  had  in  Il()ni(\  The  other  was  to  forget 
the  things  which  were  behind,  and  cleave  to 
tliose  which  were  before— in  other  words,  to 
leave  her  daughter  and  everything,  and  press 
onward  to  the  rescue  of  her  husband.  Love  lor 
her  daughter  drew  her  backward;  love  for  her 
spouse  beckoned  her  forward— tlie  parental 
feeling  swaying  her  in  one  way,  the  conjugal 
another,  until  she  be(^ame  more  distracted  thun 
ever. 

But  her  daughter  was  safe,  and  among 
friends,  while  her  spouse  was  in  danger,  and 
among  eneuilBS.  The  weaker  party  demanded 
her  instant  attention,  and,  therefore,  it  hap- 
pened that  in  this  struggle  of  soul,  the  claims 
of  tlie  weaker  party  carried  the  day.  So,  in 
conclusion,  tlie  mamma  decided  not  to  waste 
time  just  yet  in  Si-arcliing  for  lier  house,  but 
to  go  onward  and  try  to  achieve  something  for 
lier  spou?e. 

And  now  comes  tlie  revelation  of  the  mam- 
ma's plan.    ' 

Why  had  she  bought  that  robe? 

Let  the  mamma  herself  show. 

First  she  took  a  breakfast- CfijTc  ?at(c— and  a 
bite  of  pone. 

Then  she  went  down  and  paid  her  bill. 

Then  she  went  back  to  her  room. 

She  then  proceede<l  to  endue  her  ample  per- 
son in  the  robe  that  she  had  purchased.  It 
was  a  monk's  robe,  with  a  cowl.  It  was  at 
coarse  brown  cloih.  It  was  long,  roomy,  and 
voluminous. 

Now  it  came  to  pass,  that  when  the  mamma 


M 


THE  BABES  IN  TUE   WOOD. 


bad  put  tbia  on,  and  bad  drawn  the  cowl  over 
b«r  bead;  when,  aft<>r  this,  rIio  had  ptniitt*d 
herself  in  front  of  the  glass,  and  surveyed  tbe 
rt>fleotiou  therein,  she  saw  tbat  her  tninsfor- 
mation  was  perfect  and  coinplete;  that  the 
pnpa  of  her  heart,  If  he  were  to  see  lier,  would 
never  suspect  that  she  wns  liia  wifi-— hl«  "  Loo- 
wheezer  "— and  that  thu  Prefect  of  Police,  If 
she  were  to  bo  presented  to  him,  would  never 
take  her  for  anything  else  tlinn  a  rosy,  easy- 
going, well-fed,  well-kept  monk. 

The  plan  of  the  mamma  was  a  highly  origi- 
nal one,  and  did  great  credit  alike  to  lier  inge- 
nuity and  lier  imagination.  To  diitguise  her- 
self as  a  monk  was  certainly  a  great  conception ; 
but  this  was  only  the  preliminary  part  of  tbe 
sohemc.  For  the  imaginative  mamma  had 
concocted  a  plan  which  went  far  beyond  thi«, 
and  which  for  its  daring  and  its  complication 
was  astounding. 

It  was  nothing  less  than  tliis:  lu  this  monk's 
dress  she  proposed  to  work  her  way  somehow 
to  the  Prison  of  tlie  Police;  effect  an  entrance 
by  marching  calmly  in ;  visit  the  prisoner  Pat- 
terson in  the  most  matter-of-fact  way  in  tlie 
world  as  his  pri vote  friend;  envelope  him  in 
her  monk's  drevs;  pack  him  off  to  return  to 
'Arrlet;  while  slie  herself— she — the  mamma, 
the  Unterrifled,  the  Indomitable,  she  would 
stay  to  face  the  OfiBcers  of  the  Police,  tlie  Judges 
of  tbe  Court,  the  Rack,  the  Fagot,  tbe  Boot, 
tbe  Thumli-Bcrew,  the  Boiling  Oil,  the  Burning 
Stake,  the  Molten  Lead,  and  death  itselfl 
All  I  Yes,  all!  Every  one  of  them.  Face  them  I 
Aye!  and  as  a  British  matron,— a  free  horned 
Henglisbwoman,  and  a  daughter  of  the  Peo- 
plel  Now  I  should  like  any  one  to  reoal  the 
mental  altitude  of  tlie  papa  and  compare  it 
with  that  of  the  mamma.  Which  is  the  nobler, 
the  braver,  the  loftier,  tbe  pluckier? 

The  mamma  took  her  umbrella. 

She  took  lier  bonnet. 

Tbe  bonnet  she  threw  under  (he  bed. 

The  umbrella  she  used  as  a  walking  stick. 

She  took  a  final  survey  of  herself  in  tbe 
glass.  She  saw  there  the  reflected  form  of  a 
portly  monk— with  full  chest,  broad  shoulders, 
erect  attitude  and  determined  mien. 

Fully  satisfied  with  this  final  inspection  she 
turned  and  left  the  room.    No  one  saw  her. 

She  then  descended  the  stairway,  after  which 


she  cdmly  walked  ont  of  tbe  Hotel  without 
being  recognized  by  any  one. 

Arriving  outside,  she  raw  a  great  crowd  all 
moving  in  one  dirf>otion.  To  stem  it  and  i;o 
against  it  was  impossible;  so  she  allowed  her- 
self  to  drift  with  It.  It  was  herintention  todo 
as  she  had  done  on  the  previous  day,  namely, 
to  wait  for  something  to  turn  up.  And  so  it 
was  that  the  mamma  plunged  into  the  crowd 
and  walked  on  with  it  in  its  course. 

All  around  her  there  was  great  excitement 
and  deep  agitation.  Songs  and  shouts  roee 
into  the  air,  together  witli  cries  of  all  sorts,  and 
yells  and  vociferations,  while  from  the  dis- 
tance there  came  the  rattle  of  volleys  of  mus- 
ketry and  the  thunder  of  guns.  And,  obi  if 
our  good  mamma  had  only  understood  Ital> 
Ian  I  Oh  1  if  she  bad  but  been  able  to  catch  the 
meaning  of  tlie  rapid  words  that  flashed  from 
mouth  to  mouth.  IIow  her  heart  would  have 
bounded!  IIow  her  soul  would  have  rejoiced! 
She  would  have  heard  nothing  but : 

'*La  Prefecture!  The  castle  is  bealegedt 
The  prisons  are  surrounded !  The  prlaoners 
are  free  I" 

But,  unfortunately,  the  mniiimadid  notnn* 
derstand  Italian,  and  knew  nothing  of  what 
was  golnig  on.  Like  tlie  other  actors  in  this 
tremendous  drama  slie  moved  about,  gather* 
iiig  her  own  impressions  from  surrounding 
scenes,  acting  in  accordance  witli  them,  and 
never  so  much  as  dreaming  a  distant  dream  of 
the  actual  truth. 

The  mamma's  progress  was  slow.  The  crowd 
was  great.  There  were  also  frequent  inteiv 
i-uptlons.  Sometimes  they  would  be  stopped 
liy  a  concourse  of  people  listening  to  some 
flery  demagogue  haranguing  in  sonorous  Ital- 
ian ;  at  other  times  a  line  of  Red  Shirts  would 
block  some  street;  again,  a  denser  crowd 
would  make  all  further  progress  impoeslble, 
and  those  who  wished  to  keep  moving  would 
have  to  pass  along  its  outskirts. 

At  last,  after  some  hours,  tbe  momma  found 
herself  in  a  square  filled  with  human  beings. 
It  was  impossible  to  go  any  farther  forward, 
and  equally  impossible  to  go  back.  Mony  Il«>d 
Shirts  were  here.  These  men  were  exerting 
themselves  toward  keeping  a  paasage-way 
open  through  the  crowd.  Here  an  oooasional 
horseman  would  pass,  or  a  carriage.  . 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


05 


Ab  ttie  mamma  oiuiie  up,  a  oaiTiuge  was 
pansliiK  nt  this  very  place. 

In  tlio  onrringe  there  were  four  men 

Stop!  What!  Can  it  he!  Is  it  possible! 
Do  her  eyes  ilwjelve  her?  Who!  oh,  wiio  U 
tliat  nged  parly  in  respectiihlo  hinck— without 
a  liat  on  bis  venerabla  liea<l  T  That  form— t  but 
heiid— tliat  fntie— those  eyes!  It  is— it  i*— 'tis 
hel  her  own  one— her  lost  one— her  spouse! 
the  loved  yet  lost  papii! 

With  a  wild  cry  that  ran;;  out  Iohr  and  shrill 
above  tlie  tumult  of  the  crowd,  the  mamma 
leaped  up,  and  with  a  forward  rusli,  tried  to 
clear  a  passage-way  through  the  crowd. 

Did  the  papa  see  her?  Ho  did  not.  There 
was  no  glance  of  recognition  In  tluit  venerable 
eye.  Oh,  had  he  but  seen  her!  Had  ho  l)ut 
known  of  the  ncigliborliood  of  that  devoted 
being  who  was  seeking  to  approach  him,  what 
suffering  might  have  been  avoided!  But  he 
know  it  not— hu  knew  it  not! 

Others,  however,  were  aware  of  it— the 
crowd  around,  and  tlie  Red  Shirts. 

What  did  they  see? 

A  monk,  endeavoring,  as  they  believed,  to 
rouse  the  multitude  to  an  attack  upon  the 
Reds;  aiming,  no  doubt,  in  ills  fanatic  zeal,  to 
bring  al)out  a  reaction— perhaps  to  make  an 
attack  upon  the  prisoners  just  rescued.  And 
at  tills  thought  every  Red  Man  turned  purple 
with  Red  Rtpublican  indignation. 

'^Papai  Papa!!  PAPA!!!"  cried  the  mam- 
ma, In  a  loud,  shrill,  piercing  sliriek,  waving 
tier  uml)rella  on  high. 

The  crowd  heard  it. 

They  surged  back,  then  forward,  encom- 
passing the  mamma  in  a  mighty  multitude, 
and  sending  far  on  higli  a  thunderous  clamor, 
which  drowned  all  other  sounds. 

'•Down  with  him!  Down  with  him!  Seize 
him!    Seize  him!" 

Such  were  the  cries  that  arose. 

And  the  mamma,  enveloped  in  a  cloud  of  dust 
t>nd  Red  Shirts,  disappeared  from  the  soenel 


CHAPTER  XXXVn. 

TWO     F0RLU.;N     DAM8XLB. 
LuoUeM  'Arriet  and  Kitty  I 
Murderen  prowl  about  tlie  oityt 

Ow  all  the  Babes  in  this  Wood  of  Sorrow  and 
Trouble,  no  one  at  tliis  moment  was  in  deeper 


affliction  and  dismay  tlian  the  unhappy  'Ar- 
riet. Her  father  In  prison,  her  mother  lost, 
her  friends  gone,  she  was  indeed  an  orphan 
(!hild,  and  knew  not  where  to  turn  for  help  or 
succor.  Anxiety  about  tier  papa  had  surely 
l)eeu  bad  enougli,  but  now  to  tliis  tliere  had 
been  superadded  a  new  anxiety  about  her 
mamma.  It  was  terrible.  The  hours  of  that 
day  on  wliicli  tlie  mamma  had  left  were  over. 
Time  rolled  on.  Hour  succeeded  to  hour.  The 
shades  of  night  were  falling  faMt.  Still  the 
mamma  did  not  return.  Expectation  deepen- 
ed into  Impatience;  impatience  into  anxiety; 
anxiety  into  alarm;  alarm  into  despair.  Still 
there  were  no  signs  of  the  mamma. 

And  slu!— what  could  she  do? 

'Arriet  had  done  all  that  she  could.  She  bad 
tried  to  dissuade  the  mamma  from  her  pro- 
ject. From  the  first,  she  Itiid  felt  no  coufldencs 
whatever  in  tiie  success  of  her  plan,  and  was 
only  waiting  for  her  to  ri^turn  unsuccessful,  so 
as  to  be  able  to  find  her  in  a  sufDcieutly  quiet 
state  of  mind  to  be  talked  to  and  reasoned 
with.  But  as  the  lime  passed  away,  and  the 
mamma  came  not  bacl<,  she  began  to  feel  a 
now  anxiety,  and  to  become  very  much  terri- 
fied. She  began  to  fear  ttat  the  mamma,  in 
tier  hot  indignation  and  her  dense  l^notance, 
might  have  been  led  on  to  the  commission  of 
acts  wliich  had  brought  on,  perhaps,  her  own 
arrest,  or  had  involved  her  in  some  diffloully 
of  equal  gravity. 

Kitty,  like  a  true  friend,  shared  all  the  dis- 
tress of  'Arriet.  with  whom  siie  deeply  sympa- 
thized. She  tried  as  well  as  she  could  to  soothe 
the  fears  of  her  friend,  and  to  re-assure  her ; 
but  her  effort*  were  only  partially  suooessful. 
Kitty  Indeed  felt  quite  convinced  herself  that 
Mrs.  Patterson  would  utterly  fall  in  her  plans, 
and  that  if  slie  escaped  getting  into  trouble 
herself,  it  would  be  the  utmost  that  could  be 
hoped.  With  this  conviotion,  it  is  not  sur- 
prising tliat  Kitty  was  unable  to  administer 
much  consolation  to  her  stHcken  friend. 

At  length,  when  it  had  grown  quite  late  In 
the  day,  they  were  startled  by  the  arrival 
of  the  ooaohman.  Coming  thus  alone,  his 
appearance  was  something  like  that  of  the 
hunter's  steed  returning  without  his  rider. 
It  showed  plainly  that  some  accident  bad 
happened,  and  'so  great  was  the  terror  of 


96 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


'Arrlft  timt  she  wait  afrnld  to  nak  what  It  was. 
Tho  noachmuii  told  tlm  whole  »tory,  Im-kIii- 
iiiiiK  frniii  llii<  flrxt.  lit*  told  about  tlio  vLsit  of 
till)  inainiiiii  to  thti  UritUh  AiutniHiiudor,  hi-r 
long  stay  tlitTo,  hrr  failurt',  lur  departiiri-,  her 
prolonged  drivo  about  town,  and  her  lliial 
purc'ha!«u  in  ii  8li<ii>.  Up  to  tlii8  point  llic 
ooai'hiniin  had  only  to  rclaio  what  Ih  already 
very  well  known  to  tho  rcadiT,  lint  lu>ro  tliciv 
0(!curred  Ills  own  vt'islon  of  that  i-xtraoidiu- 
nry  cvt-nt  which  had  torn  hlin  from  tlit< 
nnunina.  and  luft  hur  alone  among  atrangcra 
and  forviuncrM. 

Auoording  to  tho  oOaitliinan,  wliilo  the  matn- 
mu  wiia  in  tho  ahop  thero  ofinirred  a  ohai'Ko  of 
tho  (javalry,  by  wliieh  evi-ry  ono  waa  driven 
out  of  thu  ftnol  in  ail  inntant.    Thoooiifusion 
had  roiiat-d  him.    It  was  impoasiblu  for  him  to 
cominunicatu  with  the  mamma.    IIu  had  been 
fort't'd   to  fly  inatantaneoual}'.     j^eeoidiii;;ly, 
whipping  lip  Ids  horaea,  hu  had  tied  away  be 
fore  the  dragoona  for  tbu  whole  length  of  the 
street.    Then,  while  trying  to  turn  into  an- 
other, ho  had  (fome  to  grief  by  ainaahing  hia 
carriage  against  a  atone  wall.    Tho  dragoona, 
on  reaehing  Ihe  apot,  had  nearly  iiddt;nhiin 
down,  and  aoni!-)  gen-durinea  had  lakeii  poaaes- 
aion  of  the  horaea. 
Siioh  waa  the  coachman'a  tragic  atory. 
Upon  hearing  thia  it  beeaino  the  one  idea  of 
'Arriet  to  find  her  iimmma,  and  reacuo   her 
from  her  danger.    The  coachman  aaid  he  re- 
membered the  place  perfectly  well,  and  would 
have  gone  back  himaelf  at  once,  but  the  atreet 
waa  guarded  by  tlio  military,  who  allowed  no 
one  to  paaa.    He  had   therefore  concluded  to 
return  to  the  hotel  without  delay,  and  give 
information  to  the  ladlea. 

'Arriet  saw  that  the  moat  Important  thing 
■was  for  her  to  And  her  way  aa  aoon  aa  possible 
to  that  ahop,  where  her  m.iinma  might  still  be 
waiting.  Kilty  tried  to  dissuade  her,  and  then 
offered  to  accompany  her.  But  'Arriet  would 
not  liaten  to  either  proposal.  She  wanted  to  go 
at  ouoe  with  the  coachman,  and  was  anxious 
for  Kitty  to  remain  beliiod,  so  that  some  one 
should  be  inthe  house  to  receive  her  mamma,  in 
the  event  of  her  return.  And  so  bidding  Kitty 
good-bye,  the  affectionate  'Arriet  went  off 
with  the  coachman  in  search  of  the  good 
mamma. 


Kitty  was  left  alouu. 
It  grew  later. 

Slie  began  to  feel  nervous.  To  be  ail  alone 
in  tlii.4  large  li«use  in  this  atrange  city  was  very 
iinpleaaant  to  a  timid  young  girl.  The  events 
tliat  had  been  occurring  all  around  had  by  no 
means  tended  to  lessen  her  natural  timidity. 
Heaidca,  tlicre  were  other  reasons  why  she  w-.s 
restless.  8lie  did  not  like  to  be  inactivu  while 
all  her  frienda  wero  overwhelmed  with  anxiety 
and  misfortune.  But  wliat  could  ahe  do? 
Where  could  she  go?  A  thought  came.  The 
Countess. 

Yea,  the  Countess  wos  undoubtedly  tho  very 
one.  Site  could  auugest  the  best  possible  courae 
to  be  taken  in  this  emergency.  8he  had  been 
expecting  tlie  Countess  all  day,  but  had  hith- 
erto been  disappointed.  Soalie  now  conoliided 
to  go  and  see  her.  The  lodgings  of  the  Count- 
esa  were  ill  a  house  which  waa  not  far  away, 
iind  she  could  get  back  when  ahe  ohose. 
Tlie  Counteaa  could  tell  her  all  about  every- 
thing—wliother  there  was  really  any  danger 
or  not ;  how  great  the  danger  might  be;  and 
what  had  beat  be  done  under  the  ciroum- 
staneea.  By  the  time  she  could  get  back  again. 
Smitliers  would  undoubtedly  be  in  and  oould 
give  her  the  latest  intelligenoe. 

Accordingly,  witli  tlieae  plans  and  thoughts 
and  hopes,  Kitty  left  her  own  Hotel,  ard  set 
f  nh  tolliid  Ihe  Countess.  Mhe  left  behind  Iter 
ior  the  information  of  her  friends  a  hastily 
pencilled  note,  addressed  to  'Arriet,  stating 
that  she  had  gone  to  see  the  Countess  and 
would  be  back  in  less  than  an  hour. 

Ill  about  two  hours  'Arriett  returned.  She 
was  deeply  dejected.  She  had  not  been  able 
to  find  the  mamma,  or  to  hear  anything  what- 
ever about  her.  She  had  gone  to  the  shop 
where  the  coachman  liad  left  her,  having  been 
allowed  to  pass  the  cordon  of  soldiers.  The 
ahop  was  shut.  The  coac^hman  inquired  at  tlie 
adjoining  house.  He  could  obtain  no  informa- 
tion, 

'Arriet  thus  returned.  During  her  absence 
slie  hud  seen  enough  to  feel  convinced  that  the 
whole  city  wna  full  of  the  wildest  confusion 
and  disturbance,  and  this  suggested  the  possi- 
bility of  endless  misfortunes  and  calamities  to 
her  parents.  Only  one  hope  remained  as  ahe 
returned— the  faint  one  that  her  mother  might 


r 


THE  IIABKS  IN   THE   WOOD. 


07 


baTo  arrived  home.  Tli«  llr»t  gliiiiuu  wua  Hiifll- 
uleiit.  All  wus  Uurk.  Nu  one  wii«  tlieif.  Ilur 
8oul  Hnnk  within  her. 

A  mail  approached,  and  uc>eo«(od  hvv  In 
tremulous  tones. 

•■  KIk— kik    Miu  KInnear,"  aalil  the  man. 

"It'HMIsi  Patterson,"  niild  'Arrlet.  "Isn't 
Kitty  Inside,  Mr.  Hinlthers?" 

"  No.    Isn't  she  nlth  you?" 

"No.  I  left  her  here;  she  must  be  here," 
call!  'Arrlel,  wonderln^ly. 

"  LIkIUs  were  now  hrouRlit;  'Arrlet  in  Iut 
anxii'ty,  poured  forth  her  whole  soul  to 
McQlnly,  who  tried  to  connolti  her  as  well  as 
hewasalile.  Dut  the  gravity  of  (he  case  liail 
uow  grown  to  he  such,  that  all  uommonplace 
oondolences  were  felt  to  he  useless. 

In  the  midst  of  this,  'Arrlf*.  saw  Kitty'i>  note 
to  herself,  and  read  It.  She  showed  it  to 
MoGlnty.  As  he  Rianeed  over  it,  an  uneasy 
vzpresslou  passed  over  hia  faee. 

"The  Countess!"  said  he;  "she  ought  to  l)o 
back.  There'ssome  disturbance  up  that  street. 
It's  bad— very  bad.  I  think  I'll  take  a  turn 
up  that  way,  and  see  if  I  can  flinl  her.  I  hope 
to  find  your  mamma  here  when  I  come  back." 

And  with  these  words  MoQiuty  went  off  iti 
•earuh  of  Kitty. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

THE     VERT     VOLATILE     FRED. 

Here  Is  Fred  continuing  yet. 
Vowing  vows  to  'Arriet. 

McOiNTT  went  ou  in  scarcii  in  Kitty,  and 
'Arriei  was  once  more  left  alone.  Her  poni- 
tiou  seemed  now  more  forlorn  than  ever,  and 
she  felt  quite  crushed  beneath  the  load  of  her 
anxieties.  Her  friends  seemed  all  lost.  She 
■eemed  alone  In  the  world.  She  felt  terrified 
at  the  loneliuesa  around  her. 

Her  papa  was  gone. 

Her  mamma  was  gonei 

Kitty  was  gone. 

McOlnty  was  gone. 

Mo  one  oame  near  ber.  And  sbe— whlthor 
Bbould  she  gof 

In  the  midst  ot  gloomy  tbougbti  like  these, 
■he  wai  Blartled  by  a  rap  at  the  door.    She 


niitlied  to  open  It,   half  in  hope,   half  In  fear. 
It  was  Fred  Fotlii-rby. 

A  cry  of  eager  Joy  escaped  her,  showing  bow 
weluome  ills  appearance  was. 

In  fact,  the  nppearnnoeof  Fred,  turning  uiv 
Just  then,  came  to  (his  forlorn  one  like  run- 
shine  in  the  midst  of  blacke.''t  clouds.  All  ber 
Joy  iliscloscd  Itself  In  her  face.  Her  llrst  Im- 
pulse was  to  throw  herself  in  his  arniK,  out  of 
utter  dellgiit.  Tlie  Impulse  wan  chcirked,  but 
it  showi'd  itself,  anil  FriKl  was  dt-cply  affeuted. 
Behind  the  smile  on  her  lip.i  lie  could  see  the 
remains  of  siglis;  behind  thenpurkieof  Joy  iu 
lier  eyes  he  oould  see  I  lie  traces  of  tears.  Ho 
saw  all  this,  and  felt  quite  overcome  by  pity 
for  her,  and  syiiipaihy  fur  her.  Beauty  Iu  dis- 
tress liad  appeared  before  him  on  other  ouou- 
sions.  He  had  encountered  that  most  moving: 
of  spectacles,  when  he  met  the  Countesa  oui 
the  Apeiiiilni>s,  and  Roseile  at  the  Pattersoua'. 
Yet  never  before  had  beauty  in  distreaa  poAr- 
scssed  a  more  pathetic  ohanii. 

Now  Fred,  mind  yon,  was  not  the  man  to  do< 
things  by  halves  where  a  pretty  woman  wuA' 
coiieerued.  His  sympathy  with 'Arriet  on  the 
present  occasion  was  most  profound,  and  also. 
most  genuine.  Her  face  had  n  beauty  uoir 
which  was  decidedly  heightened  by  the  sor-- 
rows  wlilcli  it  bore.  True,  a  cloud  iiail  arlseiv 
between  them  during  the  last  few  days,  but  at 
thejirescnt  moment  theclotnl  seeiiKd  all  dis- 
persed. Fred's  heart,  therefore,  melted,  with 
sympathy.  His  soul  yearned  over  the  forlorn 
maiden.  He  could  not  resist  his  own  kindly 
and  tender  impulses.  lie  opened  Ids  arma 
wide.  He  caught  her  to  his  heart.  He  kissed 
licr  fondly,  over  and  over  again,  wlille  poor 
'Arriet,  all  overcome,  burst  into  tears. 

After  this,  Fred  spent  some  ten  or  fifteen 
mliiutea  in  soothing  her,  coinfoi'tlng  her,  oon- 
soling  her,  quieting  lior,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing— no  use  going  into  particulars,  you  know 
— and  all  this  seemed  to  do  'Arriet  a  world  of 
good  (some  natures  require  a  great  deal  of 
petting  nnd  caressing,  and  will  iiave  it,  you 
kimw),  while  Fred  himself,  the  young  dog,  en- 
joyed It  no  end,  and  forgot  all  about  every- 
tliing  else  under  the  sun. 

Some  time  elapsed  before  'Arriet  had  re- 
gained ber  composure,  or  bad  acquired  auffl- 
oient  control  of  beraelf  to  make  Fred  ao- 


98 


THE  BABES  IN   THE  WOOD. 


quaiuted  with  Iiur  troubles.    Her  tint  atteicpt 
to  do  BO  resulted  in  iucoherencies.    It  waa: 

"  Pup  —  puji— pui) — luutn— mum— mum— kik 
— kik— kik  "— nud  then  poor  'Arrlet  burst  into 
tears. 

From  tliia,  however,  Frtd  succeeded  iu  feath- 
ering some  idi'ii.  He  lit  ouee  hasteued  to  re- 
assure her;  aud  iu  order  to  do  so,  adopted  a 
tone  of  lofty  confidence,  which  was  quite  nat- 
ural to  him,  together  with  a  muuuer  which 
seemed  to  say,  that  all  fear  should  now  l)e  dis- 
missed, since  she  had  so  powerful  n  protector. 

"Your  papa,"  suid  Fred—"  oh,  all  riglit;  it's 
all  right.  Don't  bother  about  him.  Ue'll  be 
all  right.  You  fee,  I  dropped  in  to  talk  it  over 
with  the  Ambassador,  and  he  fays  he'll  look  it 
up,  and  see  about  it.  So,  you  see,  you  needn't 
think  anything  more  about  that." 

"But  momma?"  said  tlie  mournful  'Arriet. 

"Oh,  she's  all  right,"  continued  Fred,  in  the 
same  confident  tone,  and  with  the  same  air  of 
protection.    "  You  see,  I  heard  about  her ' 

"Heard  about  lier— where?"  asked  'Arrlet, 
eagerly. 

"  Oh— at  the  Ambassador's." 

"The  Ambassador's?" 

"Yes.  Found  out  that  she'd  been  in  there 
before  me — deuced  quick,  too,  in  the  old  lady 
—and  what  do  you  think  she'd  done?" 

"What?"  asked  'Arriet,  anxiously. 

"  Done?  why,  she'd  forced  her  way  iu— posi- 
tively forced  her  way — and  into  his  private 
room,  ani  there  she  stood,  and  bullied  him  no 
end,  and  threatened  him,  and  went  so  far  as 
to  try  to  braiu  him  with  her  umbrella." 

At  this,  'Arriet  looked  utterly  af^hast,  aud 
did  not  know  what  to  say. 

"  Oh,  don't  be  frightened.  He  didn't  mind," 
coutinued  Fred.  "  It's  all  right  now.  I  ex- 
plaiued  all  about  it— smoothed  it  all  over,  you 
know.    So  it's  all  riglit." 

"But  mamma's  lost,  and  I  can't  find  her; 
and  I  don't  know  where  she  is,"  said  'Arriet, 
as  nil  her  troubles  began  once  more  to  roll  iu 
upon  her. 

"  Lost?"  said  Fred.    "Lost?    What  is  that?" 

'Arriet  went  on  to  tell  him  all  her  woes. 

Fred  listened  quietly,  and  then  replied,  witli 
unfaltering  confidence  and  uuabuted  cheer- 
fulness: 
,     ••  Oh  1  nevermind.    It's  all  right.    It's  that 


Mivalry  charge.  That's  all.  That's  the  whole 
trouble,  you  know.  Your  ooachinan  should 
have  goue  buck  at  once.  Your  mamma  waited 
for  hiiu,  cf  course,  as  long  as  she  could,  aid 
then  tried  to  go  home  alone.  She  didu'tkuow 
the  way,  however,  audas  she  couldu't  speak 
Italian,  why,  you  see,  slie's  had  to  give  it  up. 
So,  you  see,  she's  probably  turned  in  at  some 
Hotel.  No  doubt  she'll  lie  Imck  early  to-morrow 
morning.    Kot  likely  she'll  be  back  to-night." 

"Oh!  do  you  really  think  so? 'asked  'Ar- 
riet, with  u  feeling  of  immense  relief. 

"  Think  so?"  said  Fred.    "  I'm  sure  of  it." 

"  And  then  there's  poor  Kitty,"  suid  'Arrlet. 

"Kitty?    What  of  her?' 

'Arriet  told  him. 

"Pooh!"  said  Fred ;"  she's  all  right.  It's 
some  arrangement  between  her  and  Smithers. 
That's  all.  The  fact  is,"  continued  Fred, 
"Smithersisaconfounded  humbug.  Ishouldu't 
mind  his  payingattentiontodifferent  women," 
(and  Fred  here  thought  with  jealousy  of  his 
dealings  with  Rosette);  "but  I  don't  think  it's 
altogether  fair  for  a  fellow  to  try  to  win  the 
affections  of  a  lady  who's  Just,  about  to  be 
married  to  another  fellow,  you  know.  Oh! 
don't  you  bother  your  head  about  Miss  Kin- 
near.  Smithers  '11  take  good  care  of  her — too 
good  care — I  believe." 

"  But  do  yon  really  think  that  there's  no 
danger?" 

"Danger?  not  a  bit,"  said  Fred,  positively; 
"don't  you  give  it  another  thought ;"  and 
Fred  went  on  at  great  length  to  reiterate  all 
that  he  had  beeu  saying,  until 'Arrlet  began  to 
believe  that  all  her  fears  were  baseless,  and 
that  everything  was  as  plea:<ant  as  pos.iible. 

"And  now,  my  dearest  Harry,"  said  Fred, 
speaking  with  afTcetiunate  familarity,  "you 
musn't  bother  any  more  about  it.  Don't,  fret. 
Keep  cool  and  quiet  for  my  sake.  I'll  come 
to-morrow  and  see  how  things  are  going  on. 
I'll  watch  over  you,  and  see  that  everything 
goes  on  all  right  till  your  father  aud  mother 
turn  up." 

"  But  will  you  really  not  forget  poor  meT" 
asked  'Arrlet,  piteously. 

"Forget  youl"  exclaimed  Fred,  reproach- 
fully. 

"Ahl  you  only  forget  me  too  easily,"  lald 
'AiTiet. 


10  wliulo 

I  ahoiilU 

a  wuiteU 

iild,  and 

u'tkuutr 

t  apeuk 

vo  it   up. 

lit  some 

•morrow 

o-nigbt." 

iked  'Ar- 


THB  BABES  IN  THE  WOOD. 


90 


"  I,"  said  Frod.  "  Nov.  rl  I'd  lay  down  my 
life  for  you!" 

Now  'Arrlet  was  such  a  goose  that  she  nllow- 
e<l  heiwlf  to  believe  this  procious  assertion. 

"Would  you  reuUy?'  slie  sighed,  looking  at 
him  with  pnthetiu  inquiry. 

"  Would  I!"  fried  Fn-d.  "  I  only  wish  I  had 
the  cliiiuoe!  Liiy  down  my  lift;?  Aye,  would 
I— u  thousand  lives!" 

"Ah,  no!"  said  'Arriet,  "you're  fonder  of 
another " 

"Another!"  said  Fred.  "There  isn't  another 
In  the  world." 

"Rosette,"  said  'Arilet,  with  jealous  appre- 
hension, wiitching  his  fiiee  closely. 

"R(i.'<el(e!"  said  Fred,  in  a  peculiai'  voice. 
"What!  little  Ilosie!  Oh— ah— pooli!  whyyou 
know  all  that  sort  of  tiling's  all  nonsense,  yon 
know— that's  u  different  sort  of  tiling  alto- 
gether, you  know— allogetlu-r  a  dilTfrent  sort 
of  thing." 

"But  you  do — you  do— you  dol"  persisted 
'Arriet.  "  You  love  her  far,  far,  far  better 
than  any  one  else  in  X\w  whole  world.'' 

"What!  little  Rosie!  Oh,  nonsensel"  said 
Fred.  "You  don't  understand.  Why,  you 
know,  we'vH  always  been  together,  and  she's 
different  from  other  people— something  like  a 
sister,  you  know— only  different- that  is  not 
exact ly  a  sister,  but  a  sort  of  friend— and  all 
that  sort  of  thing,  you  know;  however,  I'll  be 
in  to-morrow,  my  dear  Harriet,  and  see  how 
you  are;  and  don't  you  fret,  my  dear  girl,  but 
trust  in  me." 

Saying  these  words,  this  precious  youth  took 
the  too  confiding  'Arriet  in  his  arms,  kissed 
her  tenderly,  bade  her  a  fond  good-bye,  and 
then  retired. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

THB    FAlTHFtn,    CIKAHSATO. 
Hither  onmea,  in  time  of  nood, 
Ono  who  is  a  (rlond,  Indeed. 

'Arriet  had  seen  many  instances  of  Fred's 
fickleness,  yet  still  she  chose  to  indnlgo  in  the 
desperate  hope  that,  after  all,  he  might  prove 
true.  His  recent  exhibition  of  tenderness,  his 
offectionate  words,  and  his  parting  mlvico,  re- 
mained deeply  imprinted  on  her  memory. 
Her  jealous  allusion  to  Rosette  had  not  been 


answered  by  him  ns  she  expected :  still  she  de- 
cided to  hope,  and,  on  the  whole,  she  tliought 
that  there  was  more  room  for  hope  than  for 
feur.  Perhaps  his  leelings  toward  Rosette 
were,  after  all,  merely  fraternal.  Perhaps  it 
was  the  old  habit  of  familiar  associations  tbat 
now  bound  him  to  her— and  nothing  more  ten- 
der or  more  fervid  than  tills.  Fred  had  said 
so,  and  it  niiglit,  after  all,  be  true.  In  this 
way  did  this  infatuated  person  allow  herself 
to  be  deceived  by  honeyed  words. 

'Arriet  went  to  sleep,  and  Fred's  presence 
followed  her  into  the  land  of  dreams,  bring- 
ing |)leasant  visions,  sweet  thoughts,  and  hap- 
py hopes.  Fi-oni  these,  however,  she  was  torn 
away  by  the  advent  of  morning,  and  ns  she 
opened  her  eyes,  she  was  onco  more  brought 
face  to  face  with  her  own  desolation— a  solemn 
and  dreadful  truth  which  could  not  be  alle- 
viated by  any  rcmembrunces  of  Fred's  confi- 
dent words.  Her  father  ami  /nolher  had  not 
returned;  Kitty,  too,  was  still  absent;  she  was 
alone.  This  was  the  bitter  fact  which  she  hud 
to  recognize. 

The  servants  all  looked  frightened.  Their 
terror  re-acted  upon  'Arriet,  who  felt  all  her 
ilrniness  giving  way  utitM'ly,  and  hope  dying 
out  within  her.  But  to  add  to  it  all,  there 
were  other  things  which  would  have  been 
«!nough  to  inspire  fear,  even  if  she  had  been 
far  braver  by  nature  than  she  really  was. 
There  were  sounds  in  the  nir— the  sounds  of 
universal  tumult.  In  the  street  without,  she 
could  hear  the  noise  of  footsteps  hurrying 
backward  and  forward  ;  tlie  hasty  rusliings  of 
great  crowds;  the  inighly  murmur  of  passing 
multitudes;  while  from  the  distance  there 
arose  the  rapid  volley  of  musketry,  and  the 
thunder  of  oannoii. 

Hours  passed  away. 

The  |>apa  came  not  back. 

The  niainnia  returned  not. 

Kitty  neitlier  came,  nor  did  she  send  any 
message. 

Anil  Sniitliers!  Where  was  he?  He  had 
gone  In  search  of  Kilty,  full  of  anxiety,  pro- 
iiiising  to  bring  htr  back.  He  had  neither 
bi'ought  bur,  nor  had  he  come  himself.  It 
seemed  us  though  there  was  some  present 
danger  nienaciiig  all,  into  which  every  one  of 
her  friekid-4  had  fallen. 


i- 


100 


THE  BABES  IN  THE  WOOD. 


Hoiira  pnased  awny.  The  terror  of  'Arrlel 
grew  Rtoiiger  every  moment.  The  servants 
•lipped  iiwny  ns  though  in  search  after  some 
biding  pluee.  None  were  left.  She,  too,  would 
have  fled,  but  dared  not. 

At  length  there  came  a  knock.  She  thought 
of  Fred.    Slie  sprang  to  the  door. 

It  vras  not  Fred. 

It  wax  Grassato. 

The  light  of  joy  that  liad  shown  in  her  face 
at  the  hope  of  seeing  Fred  died  out  into  deep 
disappointment.  Ornssato  could  not  help 
noticing  this. 

He  bowed  low,  with  bis  usual  elaborate 
courtesy. 

"  I  have  come,  moes,"  be  said,  "  to  safe  yo»i." 

"  To  cave  me?"  'Arriet  repeated.  "  Is  tiiere 
danger?  What  is  all  this?  What  is  it  that  is 
going  on  ?" 

"DeRevolnzione,"  said  Grassato  — "de  po- 
polo— de  people — doy  rise.  Dey  haf  all.  De 
governments  fly.    Dey  ole  linf  fly." 

"  Papa,"  cried  "Arriet ;  "  oh !  tell  me— tell  me. 
Have  yon  beard  anything  of  him  1" 

Grassiito  shook  his  bead. 

"  No,"  said  be.  "  It  is  revoluzioiic.  De  peo- 
ple haf  proclama  to  de  Republioa.  Dey  go  to 
de  prison  of  de  Prefettura.  Dey  haf  take  it. 
Dey  haf  freede  captif  from  de  Polizie." 

•'What!"  cried  'Arriet,  in  intense  excite- 
ment. "Have  they  taken  the  |)rison  of  the 
Police?  Have  they  freed  the  prisoners?  Then 
papa  must  be  free.  He  must  be  safe.  Oh! 
where  is  be?  Where  can  I  And  iiim?  Oh! 
can  yon  not  help  lue  to  get  to  him?" 

"Oil!  yea— yes — yes  —  certanamente,"  said 
Qrnssato.  "AUarigbt;  you  papa  come  'ome 
soon,  safe,  an'  well,  an'  allaright.  Do  popolo 
tak  alladi  prisionierl  to  de  Palazzo  Quirinale, 
an'  festadem." 

"Pi'Staderal"  inquired 'Arriet. 

"Yes,  dey  git  a  festa— a  dejeuner— a  dinner 
— ba!  You  ond'stan— ah!  An'  now  I  bat 
come  to  saf  you.  You  moos  come  out  of  dees. 
You  not  saf  ere.  You  moos  come  wit  mo  to 
some  place  where  you  sail  be  saf  from  de  po- 
polo an'  de  Bevoluzionieri." 

"But  can  you  not  find  where  poor  papa  Is?'' 

"  Oh.  allaright.  Yea.  I  find.  Mebbe  '£  ees 
at  ze  Quirinale." 

"Quirlnale?" 


"Yes — de  Palazzo— where  dey  gifde  dinner." 

"But  Trr.iijma?"  said  'Arriet,  "she  isgonel" 

"Ah— deSlgnora?" 

"  Yes— slie  went  away  yesterday,  to  try  and 
liberate  poor  papa;  she  went  to  the  Ambassa- 
dor's, and  was  separated  from  her  coachman 
in  a  crowd,  by  a  cavalry  charge.  And  she  baa 
not  returned,  nor  has  she  sent  me  any  message, 
and  I  am  dreadfully  anxious  about  her." 

Grassato  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  waved 
his  hand. 

"  Pouf,"  said  he,  "  ollaright.    She  safe." 

"Safe!    Oh,  bow  can  I  know?" 

"  Kuow— why  because  I  spy  so!"  Faid  Gras- 
sato, with  a  positiveness  which  would  havedone 
credit  to  Fred  himself.  "I  know.  I  will  tell. 
You  flee  eet  ees  Revoluzioue — de  streets  pot 
passabele.  So  she  cannot  come  'ere  'ome.  She 
haf  found  rcfugio  in  a  'Otel— till  de  Bevola- 
zione  passaby.  Den  she  come  'ome,  an'  de 
papa  come  'ome,  an'  you  oome  'ome,  an*  all 
come  'ome  to  be  'appy— all  reunitatl." 

"  But  I  think  I  had  better  be  here  to  receive 
mamma  when  she  comes." 

Grassato  shook  bis  head  most  vehemently. 

"No,  no,  no!'  said  he.  "Eet  is  not  safe — 
not  for  anoder  hour  You  moos  fly — escape — 
get  a  refugio.  Leal)e  a  note  for  de  Signora 
tellen  'er  where  you  af  gone." 

There  was  but  one  more  objection  to  going 
in  'Arriet's  mind,  but  this,  it  must  be  confess- 
ed, was  a  stron^  one.  Fred  bad  solemnly 
promised  to  come  for  lier.  He  had  not  come. 
Should  she  wait,  or  should  she  give  bim  up.  It 
was  not  easy  to  decide. 

"  Mr.- Mr.  Fotherby— ah,  promised,"  she 
stammereil,  "  to— to  oome  here— and— and " 

Grassato  drew  himself  up  haughtily.  'Arriet 
hesitated. 

"  What  of  'im— what  of  Signer  Fodnirby?" 
asked  he. 

"  lie  nsked  me  to  wait,  and  promised  to— to 
—to— 1)0  liero  and— save  me!" 

Grassato  smiled  scornfully,  and  looked  fix- 
edly at  'Arriet. 

•"El"  said  Gras»ito.  "'E  come,  nevaret 
Dere  is  danger  now  allaroun.  Why  not  'E 
oome  to  safe  you  ?  Do  you  not  know  ?  'B  for- 
get you!  'E  know  noting  more  about  you. 
'E  only  know  one — 'imself— an'  one  oder— la 
Bosettina.    'Imself  an'  la  Rosettina— dat  alL 


1 


f 


TEE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


101 


ainner." 
sgone!" 

try  and 
mbossa- 
acbman 

i]  she  bos 

message, 

«r." 

id  waved 


Ef  you  wait  'ere  for  'lin,  you  moos  wait  till  de 
fliiiinoudo." 

Ttie  allusion  to  Rosette  was  well  made.  lu 
an  instant  all  the  jealousy  of  'Arriet  was 
roused.  Sbe  thouRbt  berseif  once  t  tre  for- 
gotten and  forsaken  on  account  of  U>Butte; 
and  her  late  anxiety  about  her  parents  now 
gave  way  to  a  new  feeling,  that  of  deep  resent- 
ment against  the  volatile,  tbe  eaprlclous,  the 
fickle,  the  treacberous,  tbe  too  susceptible 
Fred  Fotberby.  lie  bad  deserted  and  forgot- 
ten her  in  this  lime  of  danger.  That  was  most 
evident.  Iler  own  care  for  her  personal  safety 
as  well  as  her  wounded  pride,  botb  alike  urged 
her  to  accept  the  offer  of  tbe  generous  and 
faithful  Orassato. 

A  few  moments  were  occupie<l  lu  making 
ber  preparations,  among  which  was  a  note  for 
either  of  her  parents,  in  case  of  tlieir  arrival 
home;  and  then  she  retired  with  tbe  Count. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

IS    IT    A    MOCK     CAnNIVAI,? 

Both  our  friends  are  in  confusion 
At  this  mighty  Revolution. 

Rosette  reached  the  bouio  and  entered. 
Tbe  eonciergerie  was  deserted.  She  went  up 
stairs.  No  one  was  visible.  It  was  already 
late,  and  the  rapid  twilight  of  Italy  would 
soon  vnnisti  into  the  darkness  of  night.  It 
was  a  rather  uncomfortable  position  for  a 
homeless  little  girl,  and  sbe  felt  very  forlorn 
and  very  desolate.  Until  now,  she  bad  not 
noticed  tbe  flight  of  time,  nor  had  sbe 
thought  that  It  wiis  so  late.  Wliere  should  sbe 
pass  tbe  night?  It  seemed  as  though  she 
would  have  to  beg  a  night's  lodging,  even  at 
the  risk  of  being  Inuulted  and  refused.  Her 
chief  hope  was  in  Kitty  Kiunear,  who  bad 
never  been  rude  or  unladylike. 

Sbe  hesitated  for  a  time,  and  then  went  to 
the  Pattersons'  door.  To  her  surprise,  it  was 
open.  Sbe  peeped  in.  No  one  was  visible,  and 
no  sound  was  audible.  She  stood  here  hesitat- 
ing, and  feeling  very  forlorn  Indeed. 

It's  all  very  well  to  think  about  fairy  sto- 
ries, said  poor  little  Rosette  to  berseif,  but  my 
(airy  story  is  beginning  to  be  unpleasant.  As 
long  as  1  was  taken  care  of,  and  carried  back- 


ward and  forward,  it  was  all  very  well,  but 
now  It  is  all  very  bod.  It  looks  Just  as  though 
tbe  wloliied  magician  is  getting  me  back  again 
into  bis  power.  Yet  what  can  I  do?  I'm  sure 
I  think  it's  a  great  shame. 

In  tbe  midst  of  these  thoughts,  there  came 
the  sound  of  footsteps  up  tbe  stairway.  Ro- 
sette entered  tbe  room,  and  closed  tbe  door  so 
that  sbe  could  peep  out  without  being  seen. 
A  man  soon  made  his  appearance.  She  could 
notsee  bis  face  very  well.  Uu  came  to  tbedoor, 
and  stood  for  a  moment.  Then  be  knocked. 
Rosette  slowly  oponed  It,  and  stood  there. 

Tbe  man  stared  at  ber  for  a  moment,  and 
then  gave  a  cry  of  surprise  and  joy. 

"  Rosie,"  he  cried,  "  Rosle— my  darling  little 
Rosiel  Oh,  you  sweet  little  petl  Where  did 
you  come  from  ?    How  did  you  get  here?" 

And  with  these  words,  which  were  spoken  in 
a  torrent  of  eager  exclteraeut,  Fred  caught 
Rosette  lu  his  arms,  and  kissed  her  most  pas- 
sionately again  and  again. 

"  I  thought  you  were  lost ;  I've  been  dis- 
tracted about  you ;  I've  been  going  on  like  a 
madman." 

"  Why,  you  dear  old  Freddie,  what  a  siily 
old  boy  you  must  bel''  said  Rosette;  "and  do 
you  really  care  so  much  for  me?  and  did  you 
really  miss  me  so  much  ?  I'm  sure  I  think  that 
is  very  good  in  you ;  and,  do  you  know,  I  came 
all  tbe  way  here  on  purpose  to  find  you.  I 
want  to  ask  your  advice,  oh,  ever  so  muchi" 

"  Why,  what  in  tbe  world  do  you  mean?" 
cried  Fred.  "Weren't  you  arrested  by  tbe 
Police,  and  thrown  into  the  dungeons  of  tbe 
Prefecture?" 

"  Arrested  I  dungeons!  My  dear,  preposter- 
ous old  boy,  you  must  be  raving.  They're  the 
nicest,  kindest  people;  they  let  me  have  a  nioe 
little  room;  and  to-day  they  tooK  me  to  a 
splendid  place — quite  a  palace;  only,  you 
know,  I  wanted  to  get  my  luggage,  and  to  see 
you.  And  then,  too,  that  dreadful  old  man 
came  along,  and  l>egan  to  take  off  his  boots." 

"Dreadful old  man!  takeoff  bis  boots!"  re- 
peated Fred.  "  Ob,  Rosie,  you  are  not  mad, 
are  you  ?    Do  you  mean  old  Patterson  ?'* 

"  Why,  of  course  I  do." 

"  But  he's  been  tnken  off  by  tbe  Police,  too, 
and  flung  into  a  dungeon." 

"It's quite  plain,  Freddie,  dear,"  said  Bo- 


102 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


sette,  placidly,  "  thnt  you  have  bad  some  night- 
mare." 

"NightmareT  Why,  there's  no  end  o*  n 
Ttm,  Mrs.  Patterson  has  gone  mad  about  her 
husband.  Harriet  has  disappeared.  Misa 
Klnnear  ha*  vanished.  The  whole  city  Is  in  an 
uproar.  But  come  inside.  The  houi<e  is  com- 
pletely Jesertea.  Every  one  has  gone.  Even 
the  eoneierge  hns  fli'd." 

With  these  words,  Frt'd  drew  Rosette  inside, 
closed  the  door,  and  Incited  it,  after  which  he 
proceeded  to  kiss  Rosette  n.rain. 

"Oh,  Rosie!  Oli,  Rosic!"  he  orled,  again 
and  again,  holding  her  fast  in  his  avms.  "I 
never  knew  before  how  dear  you  were!  Oh, 
Bosie,  I  love  you  so!" 

Rosette  gave  a  low  sigh. 

•*  I'm  sure,  Freddie."  she  said,  "  I'm  sure  I 
don't  know  what's  the  matter  with  me.  You 
almost  make  me  cry  when  you  talk  so.  j 
didn't  know  you  were  so  fond  of  me — and  you 
know  I'm  so  awfully  fond  of  you — and  I  al- 
ways have  been,  now,  haven't  I,  Freddie?" 

Fred  said  nothing,  but  lield  her  in  his  arms, 
and  put  his  head  on  her  shoulder,  and  wept. 

"  Now  you  will  really  make  me  cry.  Fred- 
dl3,"  said  Rosette,  very  piteously.  "  I  think 
I'm  beginning  to  cry  now.' 

•'  But  you  don't  know  how  I've  ached  to  see 
you,  and  how  crazy  I've  been  witli  despair." 

"I  think,  Freddie,"  snid  Rosette,  "  thot  you 
must  be  just  a  little  bil  crazy  still." 

•'  Of  course  I  am— and  I'm  crazy  with  joy  to 
get  you  again." 

"Freddie,  dear,"  said  Rosette,  after  a  pause, 
"  do  you  know  It  seems  awfully  nice  to  have 
you  go  on  so,  and  be  so  crnzy  about  poor  little 
me?  I  was  almost  beginning  to  wondnr 
whether  you'd  ever  speak  to  me  after  you 
married  Miss  Patterson." 

"Oh,  bother  Ml3s  Patterson." 

"  Or  the  Countess." 

"Confound  the  Countess!  I  wouldn't  give 
you  for  Ave  hundred  thousand  Countesses  and 
one  million  Harriets,  all  rolled  into  one." 

"  Wouldn't  you,  really?"  asked  Rosette,  in 
most  innocent  delight. 

"  No,  I.wouldn-t." 

"  I'm  so  glad,  and  I  think  you're  my  own 
dear  Freddie  back  again,  just  as  you  used  to 
be  In  Cbelteaham,  when  you  neTer  wanted  to 


play  with  anybody  or  go  with  anybody  but 
me.  And  you  know,  Freddie,  I  did  feel  a  little 
bit— just  a  little  bit— out  up  when  you  wenton 
so  about  the  Countess:  but  then  you  know  I 
remembered  tliut  you  were  ever  so  much  old- 
er,  and  wanted  to  be  settled  in  life,  rfhd  all 
that,  and  so  I  tried  not  to  mind  it.  But  now, 
Freddie,  wo  can  be  just  as  we  used  to  be  in  the 
dear  old  days,  can't  wo,  Freddie?" 

"But,  Rosie,  you  don't  seem  at  all  glad  at  yotir 
escape!"        . 

"Escnpe!  I  didn't  escape  at  all.'" 

"Why  yes,  you  must  have,  or  else  how  did 
you  get  here?" 

"Hi-re?  Why  I  walked  la-re  of  course,  and 
partly  to  see  you  too,  though  partly  to  see  if  I 
couldn't  get  my  luggoge." 

"Your  luggage!"  cried  Fred,  astonished* 
"What  for?" 

"  Why,  to  take  it  back  with  me." 

"Takeit  b;ick?' 

"Yes— unless  you  can  suggest  something 
better!" 

At  this  Fred  stared  at  Rosette  in  a  perfect 
puzzle. 

•'  Why  I  thought  you  had  been  arrested  by 
the  Police?" 

"  I  wasn't  arrested  at  nil— I  was  invited  to  go 
with  them." 

"Of  courst!— but  I  was  also  told  that  you 
were  taken  to  the  Prisons  of  the  Prefecture!" 

"  Well,  so  I  wrw,  but  I  found  nothing  like  a 
Prison  there.  I  bad  the  dearest  little  attic 
room,  with  the  sweetest  little  bed 

"  What !  didn't  they  haul  you  up  before  the 
Tribunal  of  the  Police  Office,  and  didn't  the 
Police  Magistrate  himself  examine  you  ?" 

"  Well  they  did  seem  a  little  too  'int^uisitive, 
Freddie,  on  one  or  two  poinds,  but  then  they 
were  as  kind  as  kind  could  b(,  and  I  never  was 
treated  with  more  consideratic  n.  Soldiers  all 
presenting  arms,  Police  bowing  respectfully. 
Judges  kind,  and  mild  and  pleasant,  and  I  only, 
wish  they  hadn't  taken  me  away.' 

"Taken  you  away?' 

"  Yes;  they  moved  me." 

"Moved  you?" 

"Yes— during  the  Carnival." 

"Carnival!  what  Carnival?" 

"  Why  there's  a  Carnival  or  something  going 
on." 


■• 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


1U3 


|7  but 

. little 
bntoD 
low  I 
old- 
Id  aU 

DOW, 

|in  tbe 


did 


i 


"Curnivnl!"  cried  Fred.  "Why  don't  you 
know  that  thero'a  a  Revolution,  goosie?" 

"AReTolutlonI"  oried  Rosette. 

"1e«." 

"  What  nonsense  I" 

"  It  isn't  nonsense  at  all." 

"  A  Revolution !  Why  I've  been  all  through 
and  through  the  city.  They  drew  uio  from  the 
Police-house  to  tlin  Campedoglio— and " 

"They  drew  you!    Who?" 

"  Why  a  lot  of  men  dressed  in  red  shirts,  you 
know." 

"You!  you!  drew  you!    You!  not  you!" 

"Yes;  me!  me!— and  why  not,  pray?" 

Fred  gave  a  loud  hiugh. 

"  Wliy,  I  heard  some  Englislimeu  talking 
aliout  it,  about  a  beautiful  American  Princess, 
the  daughter  of  General  George  Wasliiiigton, 
who  had  been  delivered  from  the  Prefecture 
and  taken  to  the  Capitol.  There  was  a  great 
debate  as  to  whether  the  United  States  liad 
Princesses  or  not.  But  one  of  tliem  brouglit 
forward  the  case  of  Pocahontas,  and  of  course 
that  settled  it.    So  you're  Pocahontas " 

"  Its  nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  Rosette,  de- 
cidedly. "A  Revolution!  wliat  nonsense. 
Why  the  people  were  all  very  well  behaved,  in- 
deed. A  Revolution!  why,  where  were  all  the 
guillotines  and  things?  Its  some  Carnival— 
ot  some  new  sort,  witliout  masks.  I've  lived 
long  enough  in  Rome  to  know  Roman  ways. 
Who  told  you  that  it  was  a  Revolution?" 

"  An  Englishman,"  said  Fred. 

"  Freddie,"  said  Rosette.  "  the  Englishmen 
who  come  here  are  fearfully  ignorant.  Their 
heads  are  so  stuffed  with  prejudices  that  it's 
simply  impossible  for  them  to  have  one  cor- 
rect idea.  Think  of  all  that  nonsense  that 
liiey  told  you  about  me.  Now,  I'll  tell  ^ou 
what  it  really  was.  They  celebrated  some 
kind  of  a  Carnival,  and  fired  guns,  and  can- 
nons, and  rockets,  and  things.  Thej  had  great 
processions,  with  songs  and  fliigs.  The  Judges 
and  Police  sent  some  of  the  people  from  the 
Prefecture,  and  sent  me  to  a  new  residence  in 
u  splendid  Palace  on  the  Quirinal.  Now,  tell 
me,  don't  you  think  I  ought  to  know,  when 
I've  been  in  the  midst  of  it  all  day?  Revolu- 
tion, indeed!" 

"  I  tell  you  there  must  be— I  tell  you  I've 
seen  dead  bodies,  and  all  the  English  are  in  a 


panic.  The  Pattersons  have  fled.  I've  been 
crnzy  about  you.  I've  bad  a  carriage  ready 
and  waiting  ail  day  long,  so  that  if  you  did 
turn  up  I  might  get  you  out  of  the  oity.  Why, 
they  say  that  to-night  there'll  be  a  universal 
rising  o!  the  lower  orders,  and  a  general  mas- 
sacre of  foreigners.  Everybody's  running  off." 

"  I  believe,  then,"  said  Rosette,  "  that  every 
body's  mad.  But  with  you  every  body  means 
Englishmen.  Freddie,  why  will  you  believe 
them?  Whenever  they  talk  about  affairs  out  of 
England,they  talk  like  lunatics." 

"Oh!  my  poor,  little  Rosie,  you're  the 
lunatic  here;  you  have  not  the  slightest  idea 
of  what  is  going  on.  But  we're  losing  time. 
The  danger  is  pressing.  It's  getting  late.  We 
must  fly  before  dark,  if  possible.  I'm  afraid 
it's  already  too  late.  I'll  hurry  off  and  get  the 
carriage,  and  then  we  must  fly.  You  wait 
here— keep  dark— don't  show-  yourself,  and 
I'll  be  back  in  less  than  an  hour." 

With  these  words  Fred  hurried  away,  leav- 
ing Rosette  alone. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

THE  VATK  TAKES  TO  A  DISGUISE — A   DESPERATB 

VENTURE. 

In  these  costly  priestly  garments 
Tou'll  escape  the  Bed  Shirt  rarmints. 

Seated  on  a  chair  iu  that  upper  room, 
engaged  in  the  simple  task  of  pulling  off  Ids 
boots,  the  papa  had  been  startled  by  a  noise. 
He  had  looked  up;  there,  full  before  him,  to 
his  utter  nmiizement,  he  saw  Rosette. 

He  was  so  confounded  that  he  could  neither 
speak  nor  move.  He  was  stupefied.  Ileoould 
only  sit  and  stare. 

Rosette,  iiowever,  was  less  affected.  She,  at 
least,  retained  the  use  of  her  limbs,  for  she 
turned  and  hurried  l)ack  by  tbe  way  in  which 
she  had  come. 

Tbe  papa  sat  for  some  time  motionless. 

What  did  this  mean?  What  wns  Rosette 
doing  here  in  this  plac«»— In  the  very  Palace  of 
the  Lord  High  Chancellor!!!  Was  she,  also, 
one  of  the  hapless  victims  reserved  for  the 
horrors  of  the  death  by  Fire  t  Had  she  been 
brought  here  on  some  charge  against  herself, 
or  bad  she  been  implicated  in  his  fate?    Had 


i;)4 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


the  fury  of  tliH.se  lueniless  Foieigiiera  K^nt*  in- 
deed .'40  fnr  ns  to  tieize  the  harmless  members  of 
his  family.  Had  (liey  nil  been  rirrestedT  Per- 
haps bo.  It  seemed  only  too  probable  now. 
Such  was  the  way  iu  which  thene  Continv>ntal 
despots  not.  Tlint  was  the  style  of  Foieipii 
Tymnts,  whose  principle  of  uclioii  was  uui- 
Tersal  terrorism. 

8uuh  thou^ihts  ns  tlie»e  ran  swiftly  throufrh 
the  mind  of  the  p:ipa,  leaving  him  but  little 
power  for  planning  nny  further  about  liis 
own  escape. 

Tlie  papa  rose  slowly  to  his  feet,  holding  his 
hoots  in  his  hand.  A  first  impulse  to  follow 
Rosette  was  suueeeded  by  a  more  cautious 
hesitation.  Follow  her?  Why?  Where?  To 
do  so  might  lead  him  among  enemies  again. 
And  would  not  Hosette  herself  be  one  of  his 
worst  enemies?  She  had  never  iiljed  him. 
Would  she  not  act  ngninst  him  now,  and  de- 
nounce him  afrenh  as  a  fugitive  prisoner. 
Besides,  even  if  she  should  prove  friendly  she 
could  not  now  be  of  nny  use  to  him  whatever. 
If  it  had  only  been  the  Countess,  he  would 
oertalnly  have  flown  after  her  at  all  hazards. 
She  could  have  saved  him  from  danger,  either 
by  assisting  him  to  escape,  or  by  acting  as  his 
Interpreter. 

Instead,  therefore,  of  following  Rosette,  the 
pnpn  made  up  his  mind  rather  to  take  the  op- 
posite direct  ion,  and  lieep  as  far  as  f  ossible  out 
of  her  way.  Acting  upon  this  determination, 
he  retreated  from  this  room,  and  crossing  the 
hall  outside,  entered  the  suite  of  apartments 
on  the  opposite  side,  along  which  he  proceeded. 

Apartment  after  apartment  was  traversed. 
To  his  surprise,  he  encoiiuterud  no  one.  The 
place  seemed  deserted.  In  nny  of  them,  there 
was  no  furniture  except  some  tables  and  sofas 
— State  furniture,  which  did  not  seem  asso- 
ciated with  any  use  or  comfort,  but  rattier  de- 
signed for  show.  The  walls  were  covered  with 
pictures  or  mirrors,  and  the  ceilings  overhead, 
were  painted  with  fresco. 

At  length,  he  readied  n  room  which  had 
some  signs  of  life.  There  was  a  table  here, 
a  desk,  n  book-shelf  with  hooks,  a  couch,  and 
some  writing  apparatus.  Beyond  this  was  a 
bedroom,  with  a  bed  and  other  furniture.  The 
papa  looked  all  around.  At  the  opposite  side 
was  a  door.    It  seemed  to  afford  exit.  Perhaps 


it  would  show  a  way  out.  He  opened  it.  It 
was  a  (arge  closet,  or  rather  asmall  iipartiiieiit, 
and  all  around  there  were  rohes  haiigiiig.  The 
robes  were  of  various  colors,  niid  had  nil  evi- 
dently ceremonial  chiiraoler.  Thoy  evidently 
lieloiiged  to  some  exalted  persoriage  who  in- 
habited these  rooms— perhaps  tlie  Lord  tligli 
Chniirel!'n-.  The  papa  was  disiippointed  at 
not  finding  any  way  out,  yet  what  he  did  see 
gave  iiitii  a  feeling  of  relief.  He  breatlied  more 
freely.  lie  at  once  fancied, that  hekiiew  pretty 
certainly  to  whom  the  rooms  and  the  robes 
belonged.  Beyond  a  doubt,  he  thought,  they 
belonged  to  no  other  than  tlie  Chaiu^elior  him- 
self. Outside  was  tliat  awful  being's  office; 
next  to  this  was  his  sleeping  room,  and  here 
was  his  own  dressing  room.  This  was  the  Ju- 
dicial palace,  in  tlie  courtyard  of  which  lie  was 
wont  to  have  \\\» Executlona,  and  regale  himself 
from  the  windows  of  these  apartments  with 
the  spectacle.  Here  were  the  robes  of  state, 
the  trappings  of  oflBoe  with  which  the  High 
Chancellor  was  wont  to  array  his  person.  Here 
was  the  room  from  which  issued  his  awful 
mandates,  the  bed  on  which  slumbered  his 
awful  form. 

Strange,  indeed,  did  it  seem  to  the  papa  that 
here,  in  such  close  proximity  to  his  terrible 
Persecutor,  the  treinbihi'/  fugitive  should  feel 
most  secure.  Yet  so  it  is — under  the  very  muz- 
zles of  the  guns,  the  soldier  is  sometimes  safest 
—and  so  in  the  wardrobe  of  the  Chancellor, 
lliH  papa  felt  most  confident. 

He  felt  happier  for  two  reasons;  first,  there 
was  the  immediate  chance  of  biding;  and  sec- 
ondly, he  thought  that  if  the  Lord  High  Chan- 
cellor himself  should  arrive,  he  could  manasze 
to  explain  matters  to  him,  and  come  to  some 
uiiderstniiding.  For  he  still  fell  convinced 
that  the  shortest  roud  out  of  his  political  diffi- 
culty was  by  means  of  an  instant  and  uncon- 
ditional objuration  of  all  his  former  prin- 
ciples. Here,  then,  he  waited,  shrouding  him- 
selt  among  I  lie  long  official  robes,  so  as  to  be 
unseen. 

At  length  a  happy  thought  occurred. 

Wliy  stand  here  idle?  Why  not  disguise 
liiroself  in  some  of  these  robes?  He  could 
then  move  about  much  more  freely.  He  might 
even  be  able  to  glide  out  of  the  building;  per- 
haps to  escape  the  nolioe  even  of  the  senti- 


THE  BABSa  IN  THE  WOOD. 


lOS 


1  it.    It 

I'tlllKIlt, 

K.   Tli» 

M    t'Vl- 

(luiitly 
lio  in- 
Hi«li 
leil    at 
lid  aee 
(1  more 
piHtty 
r()l>tf8 
lit,  they 
[or  liim- 
offloe; 
1(1  hero 
th(!  Ju- 
lie  was 
liim.«elf 
la  fvitb 
f  slate, 
HIsh 
Here 
I  uwful 
red    bis 


iiels  tbeu\8elve8.  It  would  soon  be  dark.  He 
oould  Dot  be  discovered ;  and  clothed  iu  these 
robes— the  robes  of  Ibe  Lord  High  Chnn<'i'llor 
~be  would  be  virtually  master  of  thesUuatiou. 

Such  was  the  thought  that  suggested  itself. 
No  sooner  bad  it  occurred,  than  the  papa  ut 
oiK^e  saw  its  full  value,  and  proceeded  to  carry 
it  into  execution.  He  took  tbe  one  that  bung 
nearest.  It  was  an  ample  robe,  wiih  loose 
sleeves.  This  be  flung  ovtr  biii  bead,  tbrUHtiiig 
bis  arms  through  the  sleeves,  and  buttoning  it 
at  tbe  throat.  Another  looser  robe,  that 
looked  like  a  oloak  with  sleeves,  wod  flung  over 
this.  It  was  open,  and  edged  with  fur.  Tbe 
papa  was  a  portly  man,  but  the  robes  were 
large  enou';'n.  In  fact,  ihey  fitted  him  quiteas 
well,  as  if  they  had  been  made  for  bim  by 
his  own  tailor.  He  then  saw  a  cap  lying  near. 
This  he  put  upon  bis  bead,  and  then  surveyed 
hiinaeir  in  a  mirror. 

He  was  amazed  at  the  change  in  bis  nppcnr- 
ance.  He  looked  like  a  portly,  majestic,  ven- 
erable Judge— not  quite  a  Judge  of  the  Eng- 
lish stamp,  but  rather  of  the  Continenlul 
order— much  like  those  whom  he  bad  seen  in 
tbe  theatre;  his  robes,  bis  cap,  bis  whole  mien, 
reminded  blm  of  tbe  Judges  in  tbe  "  Merchant 
of  Venice."  He  found,  liowever,  that  his  face 
was  still  showing  a  little  too  prominently,  and 
looked  around  for  some  additional  conceal- 
ment. A  large  cloak  with  a  hood  was  liangmg 
there.  This  he  flung  over  liis  shoulders.  The 
transformation  was  now  complete.  Tbe  hood 
attached  to  the  cloak  could  be  pulled  over  his 
bead  so  as  to  cover  bis  face  and  conceal  it. 
Hiding  his  face  in  this  way,  he  stood  for  a 
while  deliberating  aa  to  his  next  course. 

Some  time  elapsed.  It  grew  dark.  Tbe  papa 
was  glad  of  this,  for  it  gave  a  better  chance  of 
concealment,  and  served  to  make  the  prospect 
cf  escape  still  better. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

THE  PAPA  AS  LORD  HIOH  CHANCKIiLOn. 

Some  one  enters— follow  met 
'Tis  the  road  to  LItiertyt 

There,  in  the  dark,  in  the  innermost  chamber 
of  tbe  Lord  High  Chancellor,  clothed  in  tbe 
official  robes  of  that  great  f  unotlonary  himself, 
the  papa  awaited  bis  fate. 


Suddenly  be  heard  a  faint  tap  at  tbe  door. 
The  pupa  iid  not  move.  He  stood  and 
watched. 

The  door  opened. 

A  uiun  came  iu  very  stealthily.  He  was 
dressed  like  one  of  bis  ciiief  tormentors— that 
is  to  say,  u  RtMl  Shirt.  He  came  in  very  noise- 
lessly and  oaiitlously,  walking  on  tip  toe,  and 
then  shut  the  door.  Then  be  opened  the  slide 
of  a  dark  lantern.  A  gleam  of  light  shot  forth, 
and  fell  upon  the  portly  figure  of  tbe  di.'tguised 
papa. 

The  man  seer  ^ed  satisfied.  He  said,  in  a  low 
whisper: 

"  Ps— s— s— s— s— t !" 

The  papa's  heart  quailed. 

He  was  discovered.  Fuither  concealment 
was  Impossible.  Should  he  carry  out  hi!i  preft> 
ent  plan,  or  give  It  up7  But  what  could  he  do? 
He  could  not  speak  Italian.  True,  lie  might 
disrobe  and  show  himself,  but  that  would  only 
hasten  his  doom.  Better  try  concealment  and 
disguise  a  little  longer.  So  bis  mind  gradually 
rested  upon  this,  and  falling  back  upon  bis  old 
plan,  besought  for  foreign  words  to  address  to 
this  stranger.    So  he  suid,  in  a  low  voice: 

' '  Mult  urn  in  Parvo !  Exeunt  omnes !" 
Red  Shirt  made  a  low  ol>eisnnce.  The  papa 
saw  at  once. that  bis  disguise  was  a  complete 
success.  In  the  mind  of  the  Red  Siiirt,  there 
was  evidently  no  suspicion  that  the  figure  be- 
fore him  In  the  gloom,  was  other  than  tbe 
august  judicial  functionary  whom  be  repre- 
sented. 

Red  Shirt  now  hurriedly  whispered  some- 
thing in  Italian,  and  made  signs  to  the  pnpa. 
Then  be  shut  tbe  lantern,  and  went  out  iu  tbe 
same  stealthy  way  in  which  be  had  come  in. 

Tlie  papa  followed. 

Red  Shirt  then  went  to  a  door  in  the  outer 
room,  which  tbe  papa  had  not  noticed.  He 
opened  it.  Here  there  was  disclosed  a  small 
hall,  with  what  seemed  a  private  stairway. 
Down  this  Red  Shirt  led  tbe  way.  The  papa 
followed.  At  tbe  bottom  there  was  a  door.  It 
opened  outside.  Here  there  was  a  carriage 
and  horses. 

Red  Shirt  looked  cautiously  all  about. 

Then  be  beckoned  to  the  papa  to  enter.  The 
papa  did  so.  In  fact,  be  oould  hardly  do  other- 


106 


TUB  BABES  IN   THE  WOOb. 


Trisf.  [J|ion  this,  Red  Shirt  banged  to  the 
door,  nioiirtud  th«  ooachmun'8  buz,  aud  drove 
off  fast  niid  furiously. 


CHAPTER  XLIir. 

THE  PAPA  ON  ni8  WAY  TO  THE  JUDGMENT  HALL 
—  HE  DECIDES  TO  TBY  AND  SENTENCE  POLITI- 
CAL OFFENDEIta. 

Poor  papa  is  In  a  flz, 

Ho  must  deal  with  polltloa. 

The  papa  wns  iii»ide  tlie  oonch,  and  Red 
.Sliirt,  on  Itie  l>ox,  drove  liiin  off  lilie  wild  fire. 

For  the  prosent  tlio  pnpii  was  safe.  But  wimt 
sort  of  safety  was  it?  With  the  papa  at  that 
time  there  were  great  qualms  at  heart.  With 
tlie  papa  at  that  time,there  were  freat  search- 
incs  of  mind. 

You  must  remember,  dear  reader,  that  the 
papa  still  oluugto  the  idea  of  some  great  public 
execution  of  politiual  offenders,  which  was  to 
be  effected  ill  no othtr  way  than  through  the 
agency  of  FibeI  True,  instead  of  being  acon- 
demned  victim,  he  was  now  suddenly  trans- 
formed to  the  altitude  and  office  of  Judge  and 
Lord  Higli  Chancellor;  instead  of  being  a 
miserable  political  offender,  he  was  the  Cliief 
Justice,  drei^sed  in  the  higli  judicial  robes  and 
riding  in  the  Cliief  Justice's  o*  i  carriage  to  the 
Supreme  Tribunal.  Ko  one  was  so  conscious 
of  this  fact,  and  all  that  it  involved,  as  the 
papa  himself.  From  this  point  of  view  he 
started  forth  upon  bis  meditations,  consider- 
ing the  end  of  bis  present  drive,  and  all  its 
possible  consequences. 

To  the  papa,  it  seemed  evident  that 
the  Red  Shirt  who  had  taken  him  from 
his  concealment,  was  the  private  atten- 
dant of  the  Lord  High  Chancellor,— 
bis  own  private  Executioner,— like  those  of 
whom  he  had  read.  He  thought  that  he  was 
summoned  to  preside  over  some  Midnight  Tri- 
bunal. There  would  be  brouglit  before  him 
political  offenders  of  every  kind,  native  and 
foreign— Italian  Republicans,  and  English 
travelers.  He  fancied  that  be  might  have  to 
pass  the  night  engaged  in  a  torture  or  two, 
with  the  Rack,  the  Thumb-screw,  the  Iron 
Boot,  or  perhaps  a  few  oases  of  Breaking  on  the 
Wheel. 

The  papa  brought  this  idea  home  before  bis 


mind  very  vividly,  and  was  compelled  to  ask 
himself  how  be,  as  Lord  High  Chancellor, 
ought  to  act. 

Well,  the  papa,  ofter  very  solemn  considera- 
tion, decided  tliat  he  would  not  only  have  to 
8ccm  tlie  Lord  High  Chancellor,  hut  to  he  the 
Lord  High  Chancellor.  Hold  a  trial?  Why 
not  ?  Was  he  not  Chief  Justice?  Could  he,  or 
rather,  dared  he  falter  from  the  performance 
of  his  high  office.  It  the  accused  should  turn 
out  to  be  dangerous  Radicnis,  or  Cunspirators, 
or  plotting  Carbonari,  why  not  condemn.  If 
they  should  l)e  condemned,  %vhy  not  burn? 
Burn?  aye,  burn,  torture,  torment,  rack,  any- 
thing—anything— so  long  as  the  good  papa 
might  be  able  to  keep  his  own  precious  skin 
out  of  harm's  way. 

Then,the  dreadful  thought  came  to  him  that 
the  accused  might  all  be  English— in  fact,  it 
seemed  cnly  too  likely.  Englishmen  and  Ameri- 
cans were  perpetually  interfering  with  foreign 
governments,  and  talking  ill-timed  Radical- 
ism, under  the  very  ears  of  the  Police.  Per- 
haps there  might  even  be  acquaintances  of  his 
own,  or  even  of  his  own  household,  who 
could  tell.  Rosette  had  been  arrested.  Was  it 
possible  tliat  Rosette  herself,  could  be  the 
prisoner  to  whose  trial  he  was  now  going.  It 
was  an  awful  thing,  and  a  very  terrible  proba- 
bility. 

But  the  horror  of  this  thoughttwas  quite 
eclipsed  by  the  greater  horror  of  another. 

Could  he  hope  to  remain  undiscovered? 
Would  it  not  be  better  for  him  now,  at  the 
outset,  to  explain  all— to  tell  who  he  really 
was.  He  must  do  it.  Could  he  hope  to  travel 
much  longer  on  this  road— to  go  through  the 
tremendous  ordeal  that  lay  before  him  to  sus- 
tain the  role  of  Lord  High  Chancellor,  on  the 
sole  strength  of  his  miserable  fragments  of 
foreign  words. 

But  then,  how  could  he  explain.  Hisbrotlier 
judges  would  not  know  English.  Or  if  they 
did, would  they  believe  his  story?  Would  they 
not  regard  him  rattier  as  a  daring  spy  in  the 
interest  of  the  Radicals.  Agonizing  thought! 
Was  there  not  an  alternative— a  hope? 

There  was  a  faint  one. 

It  was  this. 

His  brother  Judges,  he, thought,  would  prob- 
ably all  be  cowled  and  masked,  or  wear  blaclc 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


107 


liooda  wltlt  eyelet  holes,  Rucb  as  Le  remeni- 
burod  littvlng  r-oen  Id  plcturea.  Now,  ot  oourfp, 
one  of  these  hoods  would  be  furnisbed  him, 
and  If  he  were  to  wetir  11  why  his  fiice  would 
be  effectually  conoenled;  and  then  ns  to 
speech,  the  folds  of  thu  hoou  would  lunko  the 
tones  of  his  voice  iiidi8tiiiet,  and  he  tniglit 
possibly  make  a  shift  with  wise  nods  and 
mumbled  words. 

Thus  you  see  bow  it  had  got  to  be  with  the 
impn. 

Williin  the  space  of  a  few  short  liour8,he  had 
clmnRed  from  a  flcry,  bigoted,  and  uticom- 
promisiing  Radical  of  the  most  advanced  sort, 
to  a  most  Zealous  A1)solutist.  He  had  shouted 
out,  at  tlie  top  of  his  voice,  what  he  meant  ns 
a  recantation  and  renunciation  of  all  his  for- 
mer opinions.  He  bad  recanted  with  all  tlie 
energies  of  his  natur(>.  Finally,  ho  had  come 
to  beCliief  Justice.  He  bad  accepted  tlie  part, 
with  all  'hat  it  involved.  He  liad  thoroughly 
identified  himself  with  that  office.  Hu  liad 
brought  himself  to  regard  Radicalism  ns  a 
crime,  to  be  punished  with  torture  and  burn- 
ing. 

He  was  prepared  now  to  preside  over  a  re- 
lentless tribunal,  where  his  own  countrymen, 
or  perhaps  even  his  own  friends,  niigiit  be 
brought  before  him— to  try  such  culprits— to 
oondemn  them  to  the  rack,  the  thumb-screw, 
the  boot,  melted  lead,  boiling  oil,  flaying,  star- 
vation, burying  alive,  breaking  on  the  wheel, 
burning  at  the  stake,  and  every  other  torment 
which  the  perverted  ingenuity  of  man  has 
ever  been  able  to  contrive. 

A  week  ago — aye,  two  days  ago,  had  it  been 
foretold  to  the  papa  that  be  would  come  to 
this,  he  would  have  answered  in  the  words 
of  Azahel:  "Is  thy  servant  a  dog  that  be 
should  do  this  thing?"  Yet  now  look  at 
him  as  he  rides  in  his  coach,  arrayed  in  his 
rol>es,  on  his  way,  as  he  tlikoks,  to  the  Mid- 
night Tribunal  of  masked  lellow  Judges,  to 
sentence  his  fellow  beings  to  torments  unut- 
terable and  an  agonizing  death! 

And  the  moral  of  this  is— that  persecution 
does  not  arise  from  creeds  but  from  human 
nature;  and  that  cowards  are  the  most  cruel 
of  men ;  and  skin  for  skin,  yea,  all  that  a  man 
hath,  will  he  give  for  bis  life,  which  includes, 
of  course,  a  man's  creed,  conscience,  moral 


sense,  and  all  other  spiritual  as  well  as  mate- 
riol  possessions;  and  also— put  yourself  in  hia 
place— together  with  fifty  or  sixty  more  wbioh 
I  have  not  time  to  write  out for 

Suddenly  the  career  of  the  coach  and  the 
meditations  of  the  papa,  were  rudely  inter- 
rupted. 

Torch  lights,  a  row  of  Red  Shirts,  a  loud 
wjrd  of  command,  iiorses  on  their  haunches, 
the  conch  nearly  upset,  the  Red  Shirt  on  the 
box  down  among  his  fellow  Red  Shirts,  witli 
loud  words  and  quick  gesticulations,  and 
then 

And  then  the  conch  door  was  opened,  and  a 
new  Red  Shirt  politely  addressed  himself  to 
the  papa. 

The  papa  did  not  understand  bim,  but  said : 

"  E  Tplurihus  Unum .'" 

The  Red  Shirt  bowed,  and  then  reiterated 
his  remarks. 

The  pupa  thought  that  ho  was  invited  to  get 
out.  So  he  got  out,  looked  around  gravely, 
and.  in  a  bland  voice,  said  once  more : 

*' Erin  go  hragh!" 

The  Red  Shirt  bowed.  The  rest  all  stood  at 
a  distance,  in  solemn  silence. 

Chief  Red  Shirt  then  made  some  remarks  in 
n  very  respectful  manner,  and  pointed  to  the 
coa(!h  as  though  be  wished  the  papa  to  get  in 
ngain. 

Ho  got  in,  saying: 

*'  Pax  voblscum." 

Another  Red  Shirt  now  mounted  the  box, 
and  drove  the  papa  away. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

THK     SPIDER     AND    THI     FLT. 

Hat  the  Countess  and  Rosette, 
Mischief  'a  brooding  now,  you  bet  I 

Rosette  was  left  alone. 

At  first,  she  remained  seated  inside,  but  at 
length,a8  it  grew  darker,she  moved  over  to  the 
door  and  stood  there  looking  out  and  listening. 

In  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  bouse, 
there  was  no  sound,  but  from  the  distance 
there  arose  noises  of  all  kinds— songs,  shouts 
ond  revelry. 

"I really  do  think,"  said  little  Rosette  to 
herself,  "  that  Freddie  might  have  taken  me 


108 


THE  BABES  IN  TUB   WOOD. 


with  biiu.  lU  ao  awfully  lonely  bere.  It 
■eeius  Juat  oa  \t  there  wua  nobody  iu  tbo  houae 
at  all." 

She  stood  there  ii  little  longer,  and  then  a 
■ouud  cnuKbt  bur  eiira— n  abiiOiinK  aoiiud,  and 
tbeu  the  tri-nd  of  light  fuutstepH.  It  wua  evi- 
dent that  aoinu  one  woa  approaching. 

It  oiin't  be  Freddie  cemluft  back,  she 
thought. 

Shewiitched. 

No;  it  wua  not  Freddie. 

It  was  II  female  tl;:iire.  Tliia  figure  huriied 
aion;;,  and  at  length  reached  the  very  door 
where  Rolette  was  aluudlRg.  There  abe  atood 
and  stureil  hard  at  Iloaelte. 

"The  Countea'^!"    cried  Roaette,  In  aurprise. 

"DioMiuI"  excluiuied  theCouutesa,  in  equal 
aatoniahment,  if  not  greater,  accompanying 
her  exclamation  with  a  start.  She  hud  not 
expected  to  find  any  one.  She  stared  harder 
yet  at  Rosette. 

"It'aiue.  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you,"  said 
Rosette.  "Oh,  do  come  In.  I'm  ao  awfully 
glad  to  see  you." 

"  Ees  eet  de  Kilty?"  said  the  Countess. 

"  No— ila  Rosette." 

At  this  the  Couuteaa  ahrank  away,  and 
clasped  her  bands,  while  aometbing  like  a  groan 
burat  from  her. 

"De  Rosettina!"  she  gaaped.    "  Dio  Miol" 

"What's  the  matter?"  aaked  Roaette,  inno- 
cently. "I  hope  you  haven't  got  the  tooth- 
ache or  anythingof  thataort,"  for  the Coun teas 
was  staring  at  her  like  a  mad  woman,  and 
holding  her  cheek  in  her  hand  with  a  very  pe- 
culiar gesture. 

"Aba,"  auid  the  Countess,  at  length.  "Abo— 
so — you  uf  eaoape — ao  dey  oil  af  eaoape.  Aba, 
yo'i  sail  do." 

Rosette  could  not  make  this  out,  so  she  took 
refuge  in  a  polite  invitation  to  walk  in  and  sit 
down. 

"80,"  said  the  Countess,  "you  one  miladi — 
now — ^you  not  a  servant.  Aba,  but  Dio  Mio,  I 
moos  hasten ;  dere  is  danger.  Dey  chase  me. 
Can  I  bide?" 

"Danger?  ohaae?  hide?"  repeated  Rosette, 
in  tones  full  of  pity  and  sympathy.  "  Oh,  what 
a  shame  I  What  f  or  ?  Ob,  do  come  in  and  bide, 
and  I'll  fasten  the  door." 

At  this  the  Countess  hurriedly  entered,  while 


Rosette  tried  to  fasten  the  door  ua  atieaald. 
This,  however,  she  waa  not  alile  to  do,  aa  It  waa 
rather  a  complicated  affair,  ao  alie  hud  to  de- 
slat.  The  Couuteaa  atood  frowning,  and  iu  deep 
thought. 

"  Leeslin,"  said  ahe  at  Inst,  iu  a  fleroe,  excited 
wliii>per.  "I  um  in  grand  danger.  Dere  is 
Revoluzione.  De  popolo  af  I'lae.  Dey  liuf  kill 
de  nobles.  Illy.  I  am  lost  if  I  do  not  hide.  If 
(ley  take  mo  dey  tear  uie  to  piecea.  You  moos 
helpami." 

"Me  help  you?"  said  Rosette.  "Why,  of 
ooiirae.  Dut  what  do  you  mean  about  danger. 
I've  been  everywhere  to-day,  and  I'm  sure  I 
haven't  aeen  anything  of  any  Revolution.  I've 
only  seen  a  kind  of  Carnival." 

"Carnival!" 

"Yes;  only  without  any  maaka,  yon  know." 

The  Counteas  atared,  but  thedarknesa  did  not 
allow  her  to  aee  Roaelt«Va  face  yvv/  plainly. 
Then  ahe  wrung  her  handa. 

"She  la  mad — mad,"  aheaaid,  "her  ignorance 
la  madneaa.  Oh,"  ahe  continued,  and  fell  upon 
lier  knees  before  Rosette,  with  clasped  hands. 
"Oh,  safe  me;  dey  chase  mo;  dey  elanior  for 
my  heart's  blood.  De  Republlouus  buf  de  vit- 
toria,  dey  chase,  dey  soon  be  ere.  Sufami  from 
db  terrore  of  de  Republioani." 

With  these  words  and  others  like  them  the 
Countessknelt  at  Roaette'a  feet.  It  wua  like 
an  Operatic  acena.  The  Countess  on  her  knees, 
tearful,  terrified,  imploring;  Roaette  bewild- 
ered, hesitating,  not  from  unwillingness  but 
perplexity,  while  the  Countess  kept  pouring 
forth  in  sonorous  muaic,  her  appeal. 

It  waa: 

Mira,  O  Normal 

Al  tuoi  ginocobi. 

And  so  well  done  was  it  that  if  it  had  been 
performed  before  any  audience  in  any  Opera- 
house,  it  would  infallibly  have  brought  down 
the  house.  And  if  this  wonderful  story  of  Lit- 
tle Rosette  should  be  dramatized,  this  would 
form  a  capital  and  most  effective  situation. 

Poor  Rosette  was  overwhelmed  with  pity. 
It  needed  but  little  to  touch  that  tender  heart  of 
hers.  By  such  a  scene  as  this  she  was  quite 
overcome.  Teara  rose  to  her  eyes,  and  her 
bosom  roae  and  fell  with  emotion. 

"  I'm  aure,"  said  she,  "  I  should  be  very 
happy,  indeed,  if  I  could  do  anything  for  you ; 


M   8ll«  BUid. 

>i  ns  It  waa 
md  to  do. 
U(J  111  de«p 

e,  excited 

Dure  is 

y  hnf  kill 

tilde.  If 
You  moot 


"  Why,  of 
It  dniiKer, 
'in  Buie  I 
lion.    I've 


II  know." 
uasdid  not 
■•/  plainly. 

ignorance 
I  fell  upou 
ed  linnda. 
Iniiior  for 
laf  de  vlt- 
fami  from 

tiiem  the 
^(ifl  like 
tier  knees, 
u  bewild- 
;ne88  but 
t  pouring 


had  been 
y  Opera- 
bt  down 
ry  of  Lit- 
9  would 
ition. 
th  pity, 
heart  of 
aa  quite 
and  ber 

be  very 
tor  you ; 


THE  BABES  IN  TUB   WOOD. 


v» 


but  how  can  I  do  anything  when  I  dou't  kuow 
what  to  do?" 

The  Countess  looked  all  around  with  haaty 
»oruflny.    Then  she  turned  to  Rosette. 

"  You  are  a  lady,"  she  suld,  In  a  quick,  fever- 
ish voice—"  you  are  not  a  servant." 

"  Indeed,  I  am  not  a  serviint,"  sulil  Rosette, 
proudly.    "  I  was  only  In  disguise." 

*'  Well,"  snM  the  Countess,  "you  sail  glf  up 
your  disguise  — you  sail  lend  it  to  ine.  You 
not  want  it.    You  change  your  diess." 

"  What!"  cried  Rosette,  as  the  Countess 
paused  and  looked  at  her  anxiously.  "  What ! 
change  my  dress— lend  It  to  you 7" 

The  Countess  thought  she  was  hesitating. 
"  Dare  U  no  danger,"  she  said,  eagerly—"  none 
for  you;  de  danger  is  for  ine— safe  me;  oh! 
safe  me.  Lend  me  your  dress;  you  take  mine. 
Den  you  bo  a  lady  again ;  and  I  be  safe  in  dat 
disguise.  Oh  I  change  wit  me.  Qh!  do,"  she 
continued,  earnestly.  "  Dere  is  no  danger  for 
you.  Oh !  let  me  baf  your  dress.  Oh  I  hasten ; 
oh !  be  queeck." 

As  the  Countess  spolce,  Rosette's  face  under- 
went rapid  changes,  indicative  of  the  highest 
excitement.  There  was  evidently  nothing 
like  unwillingness  on  her  part.  Her  only  feel- 
ing was  joy  and  delight. 

"  What !  change  dresses,"  cried  Rosette,  at 
last  clapping  her  hands  in  utter  dellshi.  ">To! 
Will  you  really,  though?  Why,  how  perfectly 
lovely  that  will  be.  Why,  that  is  the  very 
thing  I  should  like  above  all  things— to  get  rid 
of  this  horrid  servant's  dress.  Oh!  how  good, 
how  kind,  how  really  generous  It  is  of  you !" 

A  flush  swept  over  the  face  of  the  Countess. 

"  Oh!  haste,  haste!"  she  cried  breathlessly. 

"Quick,  then,"  cried  Rosette. 

The  Countess  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  hurry- 
ing to  the  door,  fastened  It.  Rosette  began  to 
take  off  her  dress.  The  Countess,  with  trem- 
bling hands  and  feverish  haste  tore  off  hers. 
It  was  soon  done.  Then  the  change  was  made, 
and  In  a  few  moments  each  lady  stood  ar- 
rayed in  the  dress  of  the  other.  Rosette  ap- 
peared in  the  costume  of  the  Countess,  with 
all  her  jewelry— all  her  brooches,  necklaces, 
ear-rings,  finger-rings,  and  bracelets;  while 
the  Countess  wore  the  simple,  picturesque, 
and  slightly  shabby  attire  that  Rosette  had 
taken  off. 


The  Countess  then  hastily  arranged  her  oivq 
hair  and  that  of  Rosette,  so  as  to  make  eaob 
in  keeping  with  the  alteration  in  costume. 
The  transformation  was  now  complete. 

Little  Rosette  laughed  with  childish  delight. 

"  Oh !  I  do  so  wish  I  could  see  myself."  she 
raid. 

"  Yon  look  like  a  principessa,"  said  the  Coun- 
tess, giving  her  hair  an  additional  twist.  "  But 
liaf  you  de  cap  an'  de  apron  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Rosette.  "  I  threw  them  away." 

"Ah!  diit  is  bad;  but  perhaps  I  sail  find 
some— but  now  I  moos  fly;  and  so  addio,  prin- 
cess Rosettina." 

With  this  the  Countess  turned,  and  opening 
the  door,  fled  lightly  and  swiftly  in  an- 
other direction. 

Rosette  was  thus  once  more  left  alone. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

THB     BED8— AN     OPERATIC     SCENA. 

Now'g  the  time  of  fear  and  dread! 
Hither  como  the  men  in  Bed! 

"Equa!" 

"Ela!" 

"Ecoola!" 

"Dove!" 

"Qua!  qua!  qua  I" 

"La!  la!  In!" 

"Qim.'  qua!!  QUA!!!" 

Such  wtro  tho  sounds  that  burst  suddenly 
upon  the  ears  of  Rosette,  ns  she  sat  lost  in  tlie 
contemplation  of  her  new  attire,  and  wonder- 
ing what  Freddie  would  think.  Dut  out  of 
tills  dream,8he  was  rudely  and  abruptly  sum- 
moned by  these  shouts.  Together  with  these 
shouts  thero  was  a  rush  of  heavy  footsteps, 
and  these  advanced  swiftly. 

Rosette  started  and  looked. 

Thenext  moment  a  dozen  men  wore  in  the 
room.  They  were  in  Red  Shirts,  and  all  were 
armed,  while  some  carried  torches. 

Rosette  was  so  terrified  that  she  stood  there 
without  being  able  to  say  one  word.  There 
was  something  about  her  which  quelled  the 
violence  of  the  Red  Shirts,  and  when  their 
leader  waved  his  hand  and  motioned  them 
back,  they  obeyed  in  silence. 

The  leader  was  a   long-haired   youth,  who 


no 


THE  liADES  IN  TDK   WOOD. 


niltrlit  hnve  been  a  poot  or  nn  artlat.  lie  lind 
a  di'iignon's  sword  and  a  brace  of  ciivulry  pis- 
tol* in  Ills  belt.  He  stood  forward,  mill  |)oliil- 
ed  at  the  shrinking  flKure  of  Ruscttc,  a,*  it  wnx 
illuminated  by  the  l)alerul  glure  of  the  torchcn. 

"Eceola  mogllet"  heorh'd,  In  a  full,  sonor- 
ous voice.  "La  Conlesaa  de  ('iirrrurrrarrrn! 
Perdula,  abbnn  donata,  infernali*,  niUerubllt', 
pestilenzeale,  scelerata,  atroitu  spla,  traditore, 
e  inercenaria,  chinara  daninata  ad  iufuruia 
eternale!  !!!!!!!•• 

It  was  another  operatic  soena. 

Rosette  stood  staring  and  trying  to  make  it 
out. 

The  ca[)taln  of  the  Red  Shirts  said  bis  rcclta- 
tivo  nBal)oyo,in  the  longest  and  most  sonorous 
words  in  the  Italian  liinguuKc,  with  nil  that 
roll  of  eye,  sweep  of  hand,  and  moutliin;;  of 
syllable  which  we  love  on  tbestage.  Itseemud 
like  a  bit  from  Verdi. 

Then  came  the  chorus: 

Strophe:— El  Agente!  Dl  Qovernamente  ! 
Sara  damnata  !  Suspendnta  !  Ciuoiflcafa  ! 
Squarolatn!     Sara   perduta!    Ineternita! 

Antlstrophc '.—M  Birbonol  E  Biirlone!  E 
smorflatal  Debilitutal  Alia  rimboniba!  Delia 
piombal    E  sol  de  pianto!    Se  pasce  il  oiior! 

To  say  that  all  this  was  surprising  to  little 
Rosette  would  be  very  weak.  She  began  to 
think  that  Fred  and  the  Countess  were  right, 
after  all,  and  that  there  wasaRevoIution;  and 
besides  that,  the  Countess,  by  cunningly 
changing  dresses,  and  leaving  licr  here  In  her 
dress,  and  running  away  In  hers  (a  somewhat 
mixed  sentence)  had  acted  very  shabltily. 

It  really  is  wry  provoking,  indeed,  thought 
Rosette;  and  not  at  all  fair— in  fact,  it's  really 
quite  unladylike.  But  how  can  I  tell  these 
people?  I  do  wish  they  wouldn't  make  such  a 
noise.  It's  quite  impossible  for  one  to  make 
one's  self  heard  in  this  din. 

Now,  if  Rosette  herself  had  been  a  fugitive, 
caught  hj  her  pursuers,  she  would  luivo  been 
very  much  frightened  indeed ;  but  as  it  was  all 
a  mistake,  and  as  she  knew  that  they  were 
after  the  Countess,  she  was  not  at  ail  fright- 
ened, but  only  desirous  of  explaining  to  them, 
as  soon  as  they  would  let  her,  who  she  really 
was.  She  caught  the  name  of  the  Countess  di 
Carrarra  in  the  r&Matlvo,  and  this  sliowed  her 
the  whole  truth. 


At  length  there  was  a  pause. 

"  If  any  of  you  speak  Euglisli,"  snld  Rosette, 
quietly,  "  I  should  like  to  say  that  I  consider 
all  tills  vt'n/ rude,  vcr]/ uncalled  for,  and  very 
unQcnllananly,  indeed." 

She  looked  at  them  so  calmly,  and  with  such 
grave  rebuke  In  her  solemn  eyes,  that  the  Red 
Shirts  all  felt  somewhat  jierplexed.  This  was 
not  the  way  in  which  they  liad  expected  to  bo 
received.  There  was  a  little  emphatic  move- 
ment of  Iter  head  us  she  spoke,  which  also 
deepened  the  impression. 

The  Captain  of  the  Red  Shirts  now  made  a 
very  low  liow,  talcing  oiT  his  hat  with  one 
hand,  and  pressing  theolher  to  his  heart,  mak- 
ing at  the  fame  lime,  u  speech,  in  which  were 
some  original  but  very  polite  remarks  about 
uinilissiino  e  divotlssimo  servo  dl  I^el.  The 
rest,  Millie  the  Captain  was  speaking,  stood 
with  amiable  smiles  breaking  through  their 
beards,  like  sunshine  behind  dark  clouds;  and 
out  of  that  feeling  of  sympathy  and  habit  of 
miiniory,  which  is  so  strong  in  the  Italian  na- 
ture, all  ttiese  armed  Signori  also  bowed,  nnd 
accompanied  their  leader  with  similar  move- 
ments of  their  hands  to  their  hearts.  So  that 
the  whole  scena  now  changed  its  eharacler, 
and  reminded  little  Rosette  of  the  Pantomime. 

This  suggestion  of  the  Pantomime  now  very 
naturally  brought  buck  Rosette's  old  Idea 
about  the  Cartiival.  Iler  visitors  no  longer 
seemed  tragic;  they  hod  rather  the  comio 
cliiiraoter  of  those  Red  Shirts  whom  she  had 
seen  all  along  during  the  day.  So  now  she 
tliougiit  she  must  have  been  right  all  along. 

Of  course  I  was,  she  thouglit;  and  what  a 
very  ridiculous  mistake  for  Freddie  to  makel 
He  must  have  been  stuffed  with  some  irsane 
stories  by  some  frantic  and  absurd  English- 
men, who  always  mistake  everything,  and 
never  can  understand  anything  outside  of 
their  own  country,  unless  they've  lived  away 
a  very  long  time  indeed.  As  for  the  Countess, 
it  cost  Rosette  no  dlfiQeulty  whatever  to  under- 
stand iier  conduct.  It  was  all  some  joke  of 
hers— she  too  was  a  performer  in  this  unmask- 
ed Carnival. 

But  now  the  Red  Shirts  made  indications  to 
her  that  she  was  to  accompany  them.  The 
Captain  made  a  long  speech,  accompanied 
with  many  bows,  and  uttered  in  an  apologeUo 


TUB  BABES  IN  TUK   WOOD 


111 


tiiiiH,  1111(1  niiiilly  uffurud  lii«  arm.  Rort-tte  uii- 
(iHiHtooil  tliiit  lit)  wiia  trying  to  not  lier  to  go 
away,  aud  did  not  know  wliiit  to  do.  Tlitt  fiiot 
of  bur  ii|)eiikliiK  in  KiikHiIii  did  uot  soem  to 
produoe  any  iinproHslon  upon  tliH  Red  Slilrtg. 
luduud  tliuy  were  fonviiiocd  thiit  bIh)  wiia  IIih 
Counteog,  imd  tliouKlit  timt  this  proti>iidt*d 
iRiiorniicH)  of  Iliillun  wiih  only  a  llttlu  ruse.  80 
the  Ciip'nUi  tall«4d  Itailiiu  to  Rosctle.  Jn«t  ns 
though  «hu  uudenlooii  overy  word,  and  was 
puiictruted  with  inexpresxlhle  admiration  al 
the  matithlesa  Bkil),wlth  whtcli  abe  usauuied  the 
air  of  Inuooence  and  Ignoranuu. 

At  length  ho  uouuluded  that  aho  bad  carried 
It  on  too  fur.  10  he  tlioiight  bti  would  exlurt 
some  expre\iioQ  from  hur  by  atratagem. 

"Everything  baa  been  fouud  out,"  aaid  be 
to  Roaette,  "the  government  la  overtlirown. 
Thu  minlatry  have  flid  in  disgulau.  The  Pre- 
feoturii  liati  been  aeizud.  All  the  arohives  are 
in  the  hands  of  our  lendera.  You  are  very 
heavily  impiicated,  and  ail  the  populaue  exe- 
orale  you.  Don't  oxpeot  any  assistance  from 
the  British  Ambassador.  He  will  cast  you  off 
OS  outlawed.  I  have  received  instructions  to 
taUe  you  from  tlils  place  to  the  Arli;^Ileria, 
where  a  Court  Martial  is  already  in  session. 
You  will  be  coiidemued  to  death  without 
mercy,  and  will  be  shot  on  the  spot.  Dut  atlll, 
if  you  will  allow  me  u  few  minutes'  conversa- 
tion," he  added,  iu  a  whisper,  "I  cau  auve 
you." 

Rosette's  answer  to  this  was  very  unsatisfac- 
tory. 

"I  don't  know  why  people  will  go  talking 
Italian  to  me,  when  they  must  know  and  ouKht 
to  see  that  1  oan't  understand  one  single  word. 
I  think  they  are  very  unpleasant." 

"This  is  madness!"  said  the  Captain,  !mi)a- 
tlently;  "but  wait," 

Turning  to  his  men,  bo  ordered  them  to  po 
outside,  as  he  Imd  to  ask  thu  Countess  some 
secret  questions  furniahd  bim  by  the  Com- 
mittee. 

The  Red  Shirts  all  marched  out. 

"  Countess,"  said  the  Captain,  in  a  low,  earn- 
est voice,  "sinoH  I  have  seen  your  face  I  have 
taken  a  deep  interest  in  you— I  cnn  save  you 
yetl  Will  you  trust  In  me?  Will  you  answer 
me  one  question?  Are  you  guilty  in  that 
iierivale  bualDess}" 


All  this  was  in  Italian,  and  of  course  unin* 
telllglble  to  Roaette;  who,  however,  in  spite  of 
ills  ae(!e()t,  detected  her  own  name. 

"  Merlvule,"  aaid  she,  nod<ling  eagerly,  and 
with  a  bright  amile  of  Inlelllgeuce.  "  Yes, 
yes,  that's  my  name,  Merivale;  »i,  si !"  she  add- 
ed, ualng  one  of  the  very  few  Italian  words 
that  abe  knew. 

An  awful  cloud  came  over  the  Captaiu's 
brow. 

"  What  I"  lie  cried,  iti  a  voice  full  of  horror. 
"  Is  it  Indeed  trneT  Are  you  really  the  one 
that  denounced  Merivale?" 

Again  Rosette's  face  flushed  up  with  a  bright 
amIle  of  Intelligence  and  pleasure. 

"SI,  sll"  she  replied,  nodding  her  head 
quickly.    "Merivale,  si,  si!" 

"The  woman's  mad!"  cried  the  Captain. 
"Her  brain  has  given  way  through  terror. 
That's  it— she's  mad  I— puzza!  mattal  urrrrrnu- 
blata!" 

He  must  have  found  out  something  about 
poor  papa,  thought  Rosette;  that's  why  he 
asked  after  my  name.  He's  ttome  to  take  roe 
.»  pnpa.  Oh,  how  awfully  nice  to  have  It  all 
turn  out  so!  What  will  dear  Freddie  aay 
when  he  bears  it?" 

The  Captain  turned  to  her  once  more. 
Tliere  waa  more  softness  in  his  faoe.  He  was 
full  of  pity  for  this  unfortunate  woman. 

"Come,"  said  lie.  in  a  gentle  tone,  "come!" 

And  Rosette,  full  of  tlie  hope  of  soon  seeing 
her  papa,  followed  hlin  out  with  alight  heart 
and  ft  joyous  faci>. 


CIIAPIEIl  XLVI. 

ANOTHEn  OPERATIC  SCENA— ROSETTE  LED  OUT  Td 

BE  snoT. 

Ah,  what  horrors  now  await  herl 
Ilosie  'a  taken  for  a  traitorl 

A  COACH  was  in  waiting  below,  and  into  this 
our  little  Rosette  was  shown  by  the  Captain  of 
the  Reds,  who  felt  so  indignant  at  her  treat- 
ment of  his  overtures, that  he  decided  to  leave 
her  to  her  fate,  and  was  sulking  so  fearfully 
that  li<!  wouldn't  even  give  her  the  satisfaction 
of  getting  in  with  her.  So  little  Rosette  got 
in,  and  the  door  waa  closed,  and  the  coach 
drove  off,  while  all  the  Reds  marched  before, 


113 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


bebind,  and  on  either  side  in  battle  array.  A( 
the  sight  of  wbieb.Bosette  waa  very  much  in- 
terested and  amused. 

Its  getting  funnier  and  funnier,  said  she  to 
herself.  IIow  queerly  things  go  on.  Every- 
thing comes  and  goes  so,  that  one  cannot  mulie 
anything  out  of  it  till.  And  here  I  am  going 
Imckwiinl  and  forward, more  like  a  pendulum 
than  a  little  girl,— but  how  awfully  fortunntu 
it  is  tluit  I  am  dressed  like  a  lady,  and  how 
good  it  was  in  the  Countess  to  change  dresses 
witli  me,  and  liow  surpi'ised  tho  Judges  will  he 
when  they  see  me  again !  I'm  sure  I  don't  be- 
lieve they'll  hardly  know  me. 

Rosette  was  in  high  glee,  for  she  expected 
before  very  long  to  see  lier  dear  papa.  She 
made  up  her  mind  to  give  him  a  scolding  for 
leaving  her  so  abruptly,  and  make  him  protn- 
isenefcr  to  do  so  again,  and  then  she  would 
tell  him  nil  about  her  adventures,  and  how  1ih 
would  laugh. 

What  fun  1 

Tlien  liermind  reverted  to  its  usual  habit  of 
diiy  dreaming,  and  of  weaving  up  no  end  of 
dreamy  fabrics  out  of  the  fairy  lore  with 
which  her  little  head  was  stuffed. 

Its  going  on  yet,  she  thought  to  herself,  the 
Princess  is  riding  in  her  coach  with  her  f;iiry 
men,  but  they're  all  really  not  men,  yon  know, 
for  tliey'ie  only  rats  really,  and  that's  the 
reason  wliy  they  c;in't  speak.  What  they  say 
is  only  the  Rat  language,  and  that's  the  reason 
I  don't  understand  thetn.  How  funny  it  would 
be  if,  after  all,  this  should  turn  out  to  be  a 
dream,  and  I  should  wake  in  papa's  big  chair. 
And  I  do  wonder  how  many  more  palaces  I'm 
going  to  visit. 

It  is  a  little  inconvenient,  too,  she  thoiight, 
not  to  speak  Italian,  but  it  is  certainly  stupid 
of  these  people  not  to  know  Englisli.  I  think 
I  shall  begin  to  lenrn  Italian  to-morrow,  for  it 
certainly  is  very  awkward  not  to  know  any- 
thing of  n  language  but  Si  and  No,  and  Signer. 

With  such  thoughts  as  these, little  Rosette 
ninused  herself  as  she  went  along;  and  the 
coach  went  on  slowly,  until  at  length  it  reached 
a  square  wliere  there  was  a  tall  pillar,  and 
crossing  this  it  came  to  n  large  edifice,  and  here 
it  hauled  up,  and  Rosette  was  asked  to  get 
down.  So  she  got  down  nt  once,  and  found  a 
crowd  of  people,  all  of  wliom  stared  vei-y  hord 


ather.andshe  thought  they  wer'eall  very  rude. 

Rosette  was  taken  up  stairs,  and  here  she 
entered  a  large  room  in  whicli  were  a  number 
of  people.  Twoor  three  were  seated  at  a  table, 
and  these  she  thought  to  be  very  pleasant  look- 
ing men;  only  then  came  to  her  the  comical 
fancy  that  they  were  only  rats,  and  what  fun 
it  would  be  if  a  cat  should  spring  into  the 
room.  Of  course,  its  all  nonsense  about  rnts 
and  fairies,  she  thought,  by  way  of  satisfying 
tlie  claims  of  good  sense,  and  I  was  only  mak- 
ing believe — but  what  fun  it  would  be! 

Some  whispering  was  going  on,  .  id  all  eyes 
were  directed  toward  the  prisoner.  There  was 
a  murmur  of  surprise.  Of  all  tliis,  however. 
Rosette  took  no  notice,  but  looked  ail  over  the 
room  from  one  to  another  to  see  if  her  papa 
might  be  here.  But  they  were  oil  strangers. 
Two  of  those  at  the  table  were  looking  nt  her, 
so  she  quietly  took  a  seat  which  was  near,  and 
siiid : 

"  I  do!rt  know  whether  you  speak  English  or 
not,  but  I  should  like  to  see  my  papa  as  soon  as 
possible,  and  I  should  bo  glad  it  you  could  let 
him  know  iliatl  nm  here,  that  is,  if  it  would 
not  be  very  troublesome." 

At  this  all  present  were  puzzled.  What's  the 
ineniii'igof  this?  was  tlie  question  all  round. 
At  which  the  Coptain  of  the  Red  Shirts  ex- 
l)lained  tlie  deep  game  which  the  Countess  was 
playing,  in  pretending  to  be  another  person, — 
an  English  lady,— and  pretending  not  to  know 
a  word  of  Italian.  "Slie  sustains  the  pretence 
to  a  marvel,"  he  said. 

The  Red  Judges  nodded ;  all  present  nodded. 
They  could  all  understand  that  little  game, 
and  were  prepared  to  deal  in  a  proper  manner. 

"  Are  you  sure  she  is  the  Countess?"  asked 
the  Red  Chief. 

"Certain,"  said  the  Rt-d  Captain. 

Whereupon  the  Red  Chief  turned  to  Rosette. 

"Countess,"  said  he,  "you  are  before  the 
chiefs  of  tlie  Roman  Republic;  our  cause  has 
conquered,  yours  is  overthrown.  Yon  have 
nothing  to  gain  by  deceit.  Confess  all.  You 
will  understand  that  you  are  without  hope, 
when  I  inform  you  that  we  have  captured  the 
Chief  Justice." 

"Well,"  said  Rosette,  "  I'm  sure  I  don't  un- 
derstand a  word  of  that,  but  I  want  very  much 
to  see  my  papa." 


- 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD 


113 


I 


"  What  does  shu  any  about  il  papa?"'  asked 
tlie  Red  Chief. 

All  shook  tlieir  heads. 

"  Prouedlamo  coll  In  uisiziono,"  said  the  Red 
Chief. 

"  I  beg  pardon,"  siaid  Roaetfe.  "  Do  you 
think  papa  is  safe?" 

"Bo  not  a  fool,"  said  the  Chief,  severely. 
"You  cannot  blind  us.  Keep  your  follies  and 
disguises  for  tlie  next  Carnival." 

"Carnival!"  said  Ro.sctte,  eatchiiiB  tlio  last 
word.  "Oh  dear;  there,  it  is  as  1  tliotight— and 
I  am  right,  and  Freddie  was  wrong.  He  would 
have  it  that  it  was  a  Revolution.  Well,  tiow 
very  ridiculous.  Won't  lohaffhim  aliout  itall. 
What  fun  I" 

And  Rosette  gave  a  liappy  smile. 

At  this  all  present  felt  that  tlio  prisoner  was 
mocking  them.  Iler  plan  appeared  to  trust  to 
the  possibility  of  not  being  recognized,  and 
carry  out  tlie  role  of  English  lady  witli  unfal- 
tt.ring  intrepidity.  But  they  knew  better. 
All  long-lieade<t,  clear-sigJited  men.  Conspira- 
tors too!  Deep,  every  one  of  them.  Men  who 
knew  how  to  see  to  the  very  bottom  of  every- 
thing.   Men  of  subtlety  unparalleled ! 

Tlie  audacity  of  the  prisoner  excited  their 
hot  blood  (o  fierce  indignation,  and  they  all 
began  to  hound  one  another  against  her,  by 
burling  about  the  most  tremendous  epitliets, 
wbicli  beat  like  a  liniltitorm  al>out  the  heads 
of  every  body,  but  didn't  harm  little  Rosette 
at  all. 

Then  opened  another  soena  in  this  tragic 
Opera. 

All  were  stagy— a  fault  rather  in  their  act- 
ing—melodramatic, given  to  moutiiing,  and 
rather  florid  iu  their  gestures,  and  all  talked 
together. 

It  was; 

Peste  del  mondol  Agenti  segreta  emlssario 
del  tiranno  distruttore  de'amici— sia  nulla 
miserico-dia  nionstrata— ladra  e  Traditore  lii- 
flmissima,  formidabilissima,  orribilissima,  odio- 
sissima,  orudelissima,  detestabilissima— via  a 
perdizione. 

Suprimo  Judice  Rossn—(reoitativo)— (maes- 
toso e  con  solemnita) 

Sia  mnledetta  in  perdizione  e  perduta  in  In- 
ferno 

Cftoru*— ruttt.— E  la  Carrirara !  Sangulnaral 


£  La  Sbirrina  t  La  piu  Crudilina  I  Sia 
dauinata!  Cruciflcata!  Siaschiattatal  Soar- 
niflcata!  Edimmolata!  Siamandatal  Forto 
guardata!  AllaRotondo!  La  Peste  del  Mondol 
Sia  damnata!    In  Eternita! 

In  the  midst  of  wliich  grand  maledictions 
and  thunderous  curses,  which  came  hurtlins 
about  her.  Rosette  sat  unmoved,  looking  upon 
the  scene,  with  a  pleasant  and  interested  face. 
Tlie  idea  of  the  Carnival  had  taken  poesessioa 
of  her  completely,  for  it  appeared  to  her  that 
tht'y  had  informed  her  of  this  themselves. 

Ii's  like  a  mock  Opera,  she  said  to  herself- 
exactly.  How  funny  they  all  look,  with  their 
wild  gestures.  I  suppose  they  must  be  prac- 
tising here  for  a  Pantomime,  or  something  a<^ 
that  sort.  I  think  they  really  are  the  rery 
funniest  people  I  ever  saw;  and  why  they 
should  make  such  a  point  of  amusing  me  is 
more  than  I  can  imagine.  They  took  m* 
away  from  the  nice  little  room  at  the  Inquisi- 
tion to  the  Palace,  and  now  they've  brought 
me  here  to  make  me  listen  to  the  rehearsal. 

At  last  every  one  present  had  shouted  him- 
self out  of  breath;  and  seeing  little  Rosett» 
sitting  placid,  serene,  and  with  a  pretty  little 
smile  on  her  dimpled  cheeks,  and  with  her 
wondrous  eyes  resting  first  on  one  and  then 
on  another,  they  began  to  grow  astonished, 
then  ashamed  of  themselves,  and  then  silent. 
And  this  change  came  over  them  so  simulta- 
neously, that  it  seemed  as  though  they  stopped 
all  of  a  sudden. 

Then  little  Rosette  thought  that  it  might  he 
as  well  for  her  to  meet  her  funny  entertainers 
half  way,  and  show  that  she  appreciated  them ; 
as  she  tapped  her  little  hands  together  by  way 
of  applause,  smiled  archly,  and  said  the  very 
few  Italian  words  she  knew,  "Bravo!  Bravis- 
simo!"  and  then,  "Qrazie  Signori." 

At  which  the  Signori  were  more  astonished 
than  ever;  in  fact,  quite  thunderstruck;  and. 
OS  they  had  already  exhausted  all  their  vocab- 
ulary, they  were  compelled  now  to  stare  at 
her  iu  silence. 

It  was  the  Red  Chief  who  first  brolte  it.  Ha 
spoke  in  tones  of  deep  conviction,  not  un- 
mingled  with  emotion. 

"  E  un  eroessetta  maravigliasal" 

Which  means,  aa  the  reader  knows— Sliv's  a 


114 


TEE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


niarvelloiis  little  Lero— but  which  to  Rosette 
seemed  simply  the  foreign  prouuuciatiou  of 
her  name. 

"Yes,  yes,"  she  noildeil  briskly.  "81,  si— 
Rosetta  Merivale — only,  you  know,  I  don't 
like  Roaettii,  and,  if  you  please,  I'd  prefer 
being  called  Rosette — Rosette  Morivale." 

Upon  which  thei'e  resulted  a  variety  of  cx- 
ulamatious  expressive  of  wonder,  perplexity, 
and  indignation  at  the  audacity  of  this  little 
Countess,  and  her  vanity  in  thus  aceeptin;?  as 
a  compliment,  what  the  Red  Chief  had  said  in 
mere  astonishment. 

These  exclamations  were  at  length  flnished, 
and  Rosette  said : 

"And  now,  if  you  please,  and  if  it  isn't  too 
much  trouble,  Ishould  like  someone  to  lake  nie 
to  my  papa— de  dapa— il  papa,  you  know," 
the  repeated,  trying  to  make  them  understand 
her  meaning. 

The  Red  Chief  drew  himself  up.  He  felt  that 
.his  dignity  was  concerned. 

'She  is  incorrigible,"  he  said.  "It  is  time 
io  put  an  end  to  this.  Take  licr  away.  Let  a 
file  of  soldiers  be  in  readiness.  Keep  her  till 
we  decide  her  fate.  She  will  undoubtedly  be 
•  condemned  to  be  shot.  Captain  Giiazzabricco, 
■on  the  receipt  of  our  sentence, you  will  have 
her  executed  without  delaj*.  Above  all,  see 
that  she  holds  no  communication  with  any 
one!" 

These  words,  or  rather  the  gestures  of  the 
speaker,  made  Rosette  think  that  she  was  to 
be  taken  to  her  papa.  And  her  little  heart 
wofl  full  of  joy. 

"Oh,  I  wish  I  could  speak  Italian,  so  that  1 
oould  tell  you  how  kind  I  tliink  you!"  she 
said,  and  then  added  : 

"Griizie,  Signori,  grazie!" 

The  Judges  stared  and  frowned.  The  bold 
Capitano  Guiglio  Guazzabricco  frowned  and 
shrugged  his  shoulders.  ACter  which  he  ad- 
vanced to  Rosette,  and  said 

"  Veniti  con  mi,  bisogna  d'audare  via.  Sara 
tostoal  verde." 

Which  means— "Come,  we  must  go;  it  will 
soon  be  over."  But  Rosette,  as  usual,  caught 
the  last  familiar  word— verde.  It  sounded  like 
Freddie. 

"What!"  she  cried,  with  a  tone  of  delight, 
••  and  Freddie,  too  I    What  fun  I " 


And  rising  liirhtly.  Rosette  threw  a  parting 
smile  over  the  company,  and  tripped  out  of 
the  room. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

THE     wnONO     PARTY. 

Freddie  looks,  and  with  a  start,  lie 
Finds  he's  got  another  party. 

SiioHTLY  after  Rosette  was  led  away,  a  figure 
.stealthily  emerged  from  a  secure  hiding  place 
in  a  remote  part  of  the  building,  and  very 
noiselessly  advanced  along  the  gallery  as  far 
as  the  door  that  led  into  the  Pattersons'  suite. 
The  door  was  still  open,  and  inside  there  still 
lingered  the  strong  reek  from  the  torches. 

It  was  the  Countess,  who  had  seen  part  of 
what  had  been  going  on,  and  heard  nearly  all. 
For  liPi- Iheimmediate  danger  was  passed.  It 
would  take  some  time  for  them  to  discover 
their  mistake,  if  they  ever  did  discover  it;  and 
at  the  least,  she  calculated  that  she  was  safe 
from  pursuit  for  that  night.  So  she  decided 
that  it  would  be  better  for  her  to  remain  here, 
than  to  seek  any  other  hiding  place. 

Meanwhile,  Fred  had  gone  off  after  the  car- 
riage, and  was  now  returning  fast  and  furi- 
ously, full  of  anxiety  about  Rosette,  and  not- 
ing also,  from  time  to  time,  little  circumstances 
which  proved  to  him  conclusively  that  it  must 
be  a  Revolution,  and  not  any  kind  of  a  Carni- 
val. In  this  frame  of  mind,  half  anxious,  half 
joyous,  be  returned  to  the  house,  and  hurried 
up  to  where  he  had  left  Rosette. 

It  was  pretty  dark,  and  so  he  could  only  see 
the  outlines  of  the  trim  figure  in  the  dress  of  a 
maid  that  hurried  out  of  tlie  door,  as  he  ap- 
proached. He  caught  her  in  his  arms,  over- 
joyed in  finding  little  Rosette  safe. 

"I  couldn't  be  any  quicker,"  said  he.  "I 
hope  you  haven't  been  frightened;  but  oh, 
how  you  are  trembling!  Oh,  Rosie!  darling 
Rosie!  what  makes  you  tremble  so?  What's 
the  matter?    Oh,  waitand  get  some  wine!" 

But  the  Countess  held  him  fast,  and  would 
not  let  him  go  back.  She  was  trembling  ex- 
cessively. The  long  restrained  agitation  now 
burst  forth,  and  for  some  time  oould  not  be 
controlled.  Fred  did  not  know  what  to  do. 
At  last  he  pulled  out  his  brandy  flask,  and  put 
it  to  her  lips.   The  Couutess  gulped  down  a 


TUE  BAliKS  IN  THE    WOOD. 


115 


L 


swulluw  or  two,  and  the  wnrmtli  of  the  liquor 
soon  piMietrateil  to  her  ucrves,  nnd  rovived 
her  finking  unergiea.  She  stood  up  and  drew 
a  long  breath. 

"Now,  Rosie,  darliug  — come,  hurry,  for 
there's  no  time  to  lose.  It's  getting  wilder  in 
tlie  streets  every  moment." 

lie  bent  down  and  kissed  her  tenderly,  and 
spoUe  some  soothing  wordi>.  Then  he  raised 
her  in  his  arms,  and  carried  her.  The  Count- 
ess said  nothing,  but  allowed  him  to  do  what 
he  eiiose.  And  thus  it  happened  that  Fred 
carried  her  all  the  way  down,  and  pretty  '  'ell 
blown  was  that  same  Mr.  Fred  when  he  de- 
posited his  lovely  burden  in  the  carriage. 
Tlnii  he  jumped  in,  and  shouted  to  the  driver, 
who  seemed  to  know  a  little  Ktiglish : 

"To  the  English  Ambassador.    Quick!" 

The  route  taken  was  a  circuitous  one,  so  as 
to  avoid  streets  whore  there  was  anything  lilte 
a  riot.  Once  or  twice  they  were  stopped,  but 
the  driver  aliouted  out:  "  Friends  of  the  Eng- 
lish Ambassador,"  and  they  were  allowed  to 
pass. 

During  the  drive,  Fred  had  to  sustain  the 
Countess,  and  soothe  her,  and  encourage  h<r 
in  all  manner  of  ways.  She  sat  with  \u'.r  hcail 
1)0 wed  down  in  silence.  Her  agitation  seemed 
to  have  passed  away.  Fred  thought  that  she 
was  frightened. 

But  the  charming  Countess  was  not  what 
may  fairly  be  called  frightened.  Sliedid  not 
feel  any  sense  of  danger.  She  was  sitting  in 
that  attitude,  so  as  to  conceal  her  face  from 
Fred  in  the  event  of  any  lamp  light  shining 
on  her,  and  she  was  silent.because  she  was  en- 
gaged in  thinking  over  the  best  plan  of  ex- 
plaining to  liim  the  circumstances  that  hadoo- 
(Mirred.  For  they  would  soon  be  there,  and 
then  he  would  recognize  his  mistake. 

At  length  they  reached  the  door  of  the  Brit- 
ish Emlmssy.  Servants  stood  here,  and  liglits 
slione  out.  Fred  leaped  out,  and  held  up  his 
arms  to  assist  liis  little  Rosie.  But  as  he  stood 
in  that  attitude,  with  uplifted  arms  all  ready, 
it  wa.^  another  face  altogether— it  was  not  Ro- 
si(^  at  all— and  before  he  could  think  or  speak, 
the  Countess  flung  herself  into  those  extended 
arms.  Fred  was  nearly  overthrown  in  body, 
but  was  aitogi>ther  overthrown  and  boiUeverse 
iu  mind. 


He  put  lier  down,  and  stood  and  stared  at 
her  with  a  dazed  eye. 
Then  he  said : 
"What  the !"  and  stopped. 

"  What!  you  tink  me  la  Rosettina?"  said  the 
Countess,  in  tones  of  reproach,  which  )iad  a 
world  of  suggested  meaning. 

"  Rosette!"  cried  Fred.    "  Where  is  she?" 

The  Countess  sighed. 

"She  change  de  vestimenti  wit'  me." 

"Oh,  ho!"  said  Fred,  absently;  "and  you 
have  her  clothes?" 

"An'  see  haf  mine." 

"But  where  is  she?" 

"She  haf  mine.  She  tiro  of  de  dress  of  a 
maid.    She  want  to  look  as  a  signora." 

"  But  I  didn't  see  her  any  wliere.  Is  she  there 
yet  ?    I  must  go  back  at  once  and  get  her." 

Ho  turned  as  if  to  get  into  the  carriage 
again.  But  the  Countess  laid  her  little  baud 
on  his  arm. 

"Stop,"  said  she;  "too  late!" 

"  Too  late !    What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"She  haf  gone." 

"Gone!     Wlieni?" 

"  De  Republicani — dey  come." 

"The  Republicans?"  cried  Fred,  iu  a  voice 
of  horror. 

"I  terrify;  I  almost  faint;  I  tell  de  Roset- 
tina to  fly.  But  de  Rosettina,  she  not 'fraid. 
She  belief  only  de  Carnivule.  She  laugh  at 
mo  for  my  fear.  She  not  belief  dat  eet  is  a 
Revoluzione." 

At  this,  Fred  groaned  in  spirit.  He  remem- 
bered how  obstinate  Rosette  liad  been  in  her 
belief  in  the  unmasked  Carnival— and  how  he 
had  come  back,  thinking  to  bring  reports  to 
her  that  would  prove  her  wrong. 

"  So  I  fly— an  she  stay." 

"  And  she  had  your  clothes  on  ?" 

The  Countess  Iwwed. 

"  But  why  should  they  arrest  her  or  you— or 
any  lady?" 

"Ah  Sigi  I.  ''  ie  Revoluzione  dere  is  no 
regard  for  r,  ind  de  low  ees  not  obey." 

"  But  where  tiave  they  taken  her?" 

Tlie  Countess  shook  her  bead. 

"Dio  mlo,  Signer,  you  moos  not  be  terrify; 
(ley  flu'  out  she  a  forestlere  an'  make  her  go 
llberata." 


116 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


"LilK-rateher?"  said  Fred.  "Oli  no— they'll 
And  site's  not  Knliiiu— iind  then " 

"  Why  den  she  be  safe." 

"Oil  no!  I'velienid  that  they  are  already 
crying  out  for  death  to  the  foreigners." 

TliH  Countess  shooli  her  head. 

"Oh,  no!— you  moos  not  belief  dat." 

"Pardon  nie,  sir,"  said  nn  En^ilishmaii  who 
was  standing  near,  and  had  just  come  up  and 
heard  these  last  words,  "but  if  you  have  any 
friends  in  the  hands  of  the  insurgents,  I  deem 
it  my  duty  to  Inform  you  that  there  is  the 
greatest  possible  danger.  I  heard  the  erowd 
just  now,  oa  1  came  up,  yelling  'Mortc  alforcs- 
tlcri!'" 

At  this  the  Countess sliranlc  in  closer  to  Fred. 
Bud  held  his  arm,  turning  herface  away  so  that 
the  stranger  eould  not  recognize  her.  She  had 
Been  his  face,and  decided  to  keep  her's  hidden 
from  him,  Bui  Fred  did  not  notice  the  manccu- 
vre.  His  thoughts  were  fully  the  last  intelli- 
gence which  excited  new  fears. 

The  disappointment  which  Fred  had  shown 
at  finding  out  his  mistake,  the  ail  nbsorbiiig 
Interest  which  ho  manifested  for  Rosette,  and 
the  comparative  neglect  with  which  he  treated 
the  Countessi were  certainly  painful  to  that 
graceful  and  gracious  lady;  yet  she  made  no 
complaint,  and  uttered  no  reproach.  She 
•tood  clinging  to  Fred.  She  possessed 
her  soul  In  patience,  and  held  herself  in 
sweet  reasonableness,  thinking  that  if  she  al- 
lowed his  wandering  inclinations  full-winged 
flight.tliey  would  return  to  her  before  long. 
And  so  in  his  anxietyabout  Rosette,  and  terror 
fw  the  danger  to  which  she  was  exposed,  the 
Countess  said  but  little.  She  contented  lier- 
■elf  with  silence,  and  with  clinging  to  his  arm. 

The  Englishman  again  spoke,  keei)ing  his 
eyes  on  the  Countess,  who  as  before  studiouslj' 
kept  her  face  averted. 

"They  say  that  a  high  official  has  just  been 
captured.  I've  also  heard  that  they  have  just 
captured  the  famous  Countess  de  Carrara—" 

"What!"  cried  Fred,  in  utter  horror.  In  an 
instant,  tho  whole  meaning  of  thosu  words 
burst  upon  liis  mind.  Rosette  had  changed 
olothea  with  the  Countess.  She  bad  been  ar- 
rested. That  he  already  feared,— but  he  did 
notltnow  that  the  Countess  was  famous,  and 
that  her  arrest  would  be  food  for  public  rumor. 


Terrible  indeed  must  be  the  futo  of  Rosette  If 
this  were  so. 

"What!"  ho  cried.  "Oh  Rosie.Rosie,  you're 
lost!" 

With  these  words  he  tore  himself  away  from 
the  Countess  and  dashed  off  wildly. 

The  Countess  flew  after  him. 

"Stop!"  she  cried.  "Take  mel  Safe  mel 
I'm  lost!    Oh,  stop!" 

And  thus  both  vanished  into  the  dark. 

The  Englishman  started  after  them  iu  per- 
plexity. 

"Now  I'd  give  something  to  know  what's  tha 
meaning  of  all  this;  for  instance:"  said  he  to 
himself,  "  what's  the  Countess  to  this  fine- 
looking  young  fellow?  And  what  could  lie 
have  meant  by  Rosie?  I  wonder  if  there  are 
many  of  that  name  iu  Rome!  Bedad  there's 
one  of  that  name  that  may  be  in  danger  just 
now.  And  who  in  tlio  name  of  mischief  was 
that  vivandiere-looking  little  thing!  Somc- 
ihing  in  I'  e  cut  of  her  jib  and  set  of  her  head 
seems  familiar.  Iler  voice,  too, — I'm  certain 
I've  heard  that  voice  before,  as  sure  as  my 
name's  Cary.  Bedad,  I  only  wish  I  could  find 
McGinty  and  learu  something  about  little 
Rosette." 

And  Cary,  with  theserefloctions,  walked  into 
the  house. 


CHAPTER   XLVIII. 

A     SOLEMN     rnOMISK. 

Will  she  such  a  danger  dare? 
'Tia  tho  rasliuess  of  Uespairl 

The  loud  and  i>iteous  cries  of  the  Couutess, 
readied  Fred  as  he  hurried  away,  and  awaken- 
ed a  response.  He  could  not  leave  her  In  lh« 
crowd,  or  foi'sake  her  at  the  time  when  she  wa."* 
in  danger,  and  relying  upon  him  alone  (or 
help.  So  he  turned  and  allowed  her  to  catch 
up  with  him,  and  cling  to  his  arm.  As  8he 
came  up  he  noticed  that  she  was  excessively 
agitated.  A  look  of  distress  was  on  her  face; 
her  breast  rose  and  fell  with  convulsive  sob- 
bings, or  pantings;  and  lier  left  hand  was 
pie»t'3d  tight  against  her  side. 

"  Poor  little  tiling!"  said  Fred,  as  his  heart 
melted  within  him.  "Poor  little  deorl"  he 
added,  ns  he  put  his  hand  tenderly* and  sooth- 
ingly on  her  shoulder.    "  Poor  little  pet  I"  he 


,. 


- 


. 


TEE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


117 


continued,  stooping  uud  touobing  her  cold  f  ore- 
liHid  with  Ilia  lips. 

"  No,"  said  the  Countess,  wearily  and  sadly, 
"  1  am  uotin— to  you.  You  fly— you  quittaml— 
you  leaf  me  to  de  cauaglia." 

'Oil  eonie,  now,"  said  Fred.  "That's  not 
fair.  It  wasn't  that.  It  was  because  I'm  so 
anxious  about  poor  little  Rosie,  you  know. 
Leave  you !    I'd  like  to  see  myself." 

"Oh,  laRosettina— youfiif  up  all  de  world 
for  'er,  an'  see  me  immolata  at  'er  feet." 

"  Oil  nonsense,"  said  Fred.  "  You  don't  un- 
derstand. You  see  little  Rosie  is  very  different, 
always  Icnown  one  anotlier  aud  all  that ;  she's  a 
kind  of  semi-sister,  you  know;  only  not  quite 
tliat  eitlier.  Sister  isn't  tlie  sort  of  thing 
quite,  but  it  shows  in  a  general  sort  of  way 
what  I  mean." 

"  All,  yes,"  siglied  tho  Countess,  "  it  show  de 
delieatfzzii,  an'  de  tenerezza  of  de  lofe  you  Imf 
to  'er — de  lofe  of  de  life— dat  af  rose,  you  know 
not  when,  and  haf  grow  when  you  not  know 
about  it,  till  now  all  you  soul  ees  l)ouud  up  in 
de  Rosette.  An'  you  play  wit'  me,  an'  you  play 
wit  la  Pattasiua;  but  deepadown  you  haf  de 
invineibile  an'  indistrultivole  forza  d'  aitoie— 
an'  loTe  de  Rosettina  alone." 

"Pooh,  nonsense!"  said  Fred,  "You  don't 
understand  anytiiing  at  all  about  it." 

The  Conn:  "*8  stood  off  a  little  and  looked  at 
him  in  a  melancholy  way,  her  deep  eyes  full  of 
unfathomable  meaning. 

"RngazziK'C'io!"  slie  sigtied.  "  Wee)  you  affa 
be  a  man?  Ma,  coine  now,  derees  no  danger  to 
de  Rosetliiui.  She  nafe.  Dey  fin'  out  who  she 
tes  an'  dey  let  'it  go." 

"Let  her  go!"  said  Fred.  "How  am  I  to 
know  that?  Catch  me  trusting  to  tliat.  No, 
the  bf'ggiirly  ragamuffins.  I'll  go  to  them  my- 
self and  try  and  get  little  Rosie  out  of  tlifir 
clutclies.  And,  it  they  won't  let  her  go,  I'll  kill 
a  half  dozen  of  them,  and  tiieu  blow  my  brains 
out." 

How  mucli  of  this  was  earnest  and  how  much 
was  boyish  bluster,  the  Coun*;es8  did  not  con- 
sider. She  was  fiitent  on  enlisting  Fred  on  her 
own  behalf,  and  in  securing  her  own  safely. 

"  Oil,  Signor— you  air  generoso ;  safe  me.  lam 
Indanger.  I  am  pursue.  lam  afngilivo.  Oli, 
safe  me!  " 

"Save    you— why  of   course  1  will,"  cried 


Fred.  "I'd  like  to  see  llie  fellow  that  would  lay 
hands  on  y()u,whilu  I'm  around.  No,  my  dear 
little  pet,  don't  you  be  a  bit  alarmed  as  long  as 
you've  got  me  witli  you." 

"  But  you  eould  do  notiu'  eef  dey  attack  wik 
a  gran  multitudo." 

"Oh,  never  mind.  It's  all  right.  Don't  you 
be  a  bit  afraid." 

"  But,  oil— I  am  afraid— weel  you  notta  fly- 
wit'  me?" 

"  Oh,  well,  you  know,  how  can  I,"  snid  Fred; 
"you  forget  tiiut  I  ran't  leave  Rosie?' 

The  Countess  bit  her  lips.  "  Come,"  she  said, 
"  I  tell  yon.  Come  back  to  de  Embassy.  You 
see  de  Ambassador.  You  tell  'iiu  about  'er.  I 
safe  'er." 

"Oh  that's  all  very  well,"  said  Fred;  "but  as 
it  happens,  I  went  there  the  very  first  thing, 
and  found  him  an  infernal  old  unmitigated 
humbug.  Won't  move  an  iiicli  himself  for  fear 
of  compromising  his  confounded  dignity. 
Won't  do  anything  but  write  letters.  Wlio 
cares  for  letters?  If  I  went  to  him  now,I  know 
what  he'd  say.  Ile'd  refuse  to  do  anything  for 
fear  of  recognizing  the  Republic.  The  man's 
an  unmitigated  old  nss,  besides  being  a  con- 
founded doddering  old  woman.  That's  what 
he  is." 

The  Countess  looked  more  distressed  than 
ever. 

"Ah,"  said  she  in  a  low,  anxious  voice,  "you 
af  no  pity  forrami.  You  af  no  memori.  You 
forget  oil  dat  you  affa  say  to  me." 

"  Forget !"  said  Fred.  "  Oh  come,  now— that's 
not  fair,  you  know— I  don't  forget— not  a  bit— 
I— I— admire  you,  no  end— I— I— fliink  you're 
the  finest  woman  I  ever  saw.    I— I " 

Fred  spoke  tills  with  htsitation.and  without 
the  deep  feeling  that  lie  once  had  shown.  He 
felt  too  anxious  about  Rosette  to  give  lilmself 
up  to  other  feelings  with  liis  usual  swing,  and 
he  thought  to  himself  that  if  Rosie  were  only 
safe,  lie  could  be  far  more  agreeable  to  the 
Countess. 

"All,"  said  tiie  Countess— "dat  is  what  you 
say  wit  de  outside  of  your  voice — but  iiis^ido 
<le 'art  is  farroway.  Eet  is  your  civilita— your 
pnlitezza  ma  mauco  I'amor." 

"Well.  I'm  sure  I  don't  see  what  you  want  a 
fellow  to  do,  you  know,"  said  Fred  in  a  tone  of 
mild  despair. 


118 


TUE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD.- 


"  Oil— eef  I  could  but  see  de  soDsibillta— du 
feeling." 

•'I've  got  as  much  feeling  ns  nny  fellow— 
uome  now,"  sitid  Fred,  who  felt  olighlly  huffy 
at  this  last  insinuation. 

"  But  you  me  not  do  olo  sel/- you  change— 
you  invincibile.    Can  uoliii'  move  you?" 

"Well— the  fact  ia,"  siiid  Fred,  "1  feel  so 
awfully  anxious  about  poor  little  Rosie,  you 
know,  that  I  don't  know  what  to  do." 

"An  would  you  be  de  ole  self,"  said  the 
Countess,  iu  a  tremulous  voictj,  "eef  do  Ho- 
settina  was  safe?" 

"If  Rosie  was  safe!"  said  Fred.  "  Course  1 
would.    That's  all  I  ask." 

"Dat's  alia  you  ask!"  repeated  the  Countess, 
"  dat  she  be  safe." 

"Yes,  of  course,"  said  Fred.  "You  see  I 
don't  know  what  they  may  do  to  the  poor  lit- 
tle thing;  and  I'm  anxious,  of  course — half 
crazy,  iu  fact.  Why  you  seem  to  think  that  a 
fellow's  made  of  iron." 

"  Well,"  snid  the  Countess,  after  a  pause, 
*'au  eef  de  Rosettiuasufe,  den  you  come  buck 
to  your  ole  self— au— an'  bo— your  ole  self  wit 
me?" 

"Of  course,  of  course;  oh  yes,"  said  Fred. 
"  All  that — you  know ;  l)e  as  jolly  as  a  lord,  all 
the  time,  and  have  lots  of  fun,  you  know." 

The  Countess  sighed.  She  was  silent,  and 
was  turning  over  in  her  mind  some  important 
question. 

"An  eef  f  safe  de  Rosetlina,"  she  asked,  a^ 
length,  "  what  you  say  to  me  den?" 

"You!  You  save  her!  Oh,  if  you  only 
could !" 

"  I  could,"  said  the  Countess.  "  But  eef  I  do, 
what  you  say  to  me?" 

"  Say,"  cried  Fred.  "  Why,  I'd  say  that  you 
were  a— a— a— why  a  perfect  brick!" 

The  Countess  sighed. 

"  An'  nolin'  more?"  she  asked,  tenderly. 

"  Oh  yes,  lots,"  said  Fred.  "  I'd  say  you  were 
the  paragon  and  trump  of  women,  an  angel,  a 
divinity,  a  goddess  in  human  form,  and— and— 
well,  flrst-rate,  tip-top,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing." 

"Dat  is  not  mooch,"  said  the  Countes?. 
*'  You  haf  said  ns  mooch  as  dat  alloway." 

"Butwhatonn  I  say?"  cried  Fred.  "Oh.  if  you 
can  do  so,  save  her,  and  I'll  be  grateful  to  my 


dying  day.    I'll  bless  you  with  my  last  breath. 
I'll  lay  down  my  life  for  you." 

"  But  I  not  want  your  dyiu'  breat,  and  your 
dyin' words;  and  I  not  want  you  to  lay  down 
your  life  at  all  for  auybody.  Dees  ees  estrava- 
ganza." 

"  Oh,  well  you  know  what  I  mean.  Oh,  save 
her,  save  her,  and  I'll  honor  you  and  bo  grate- 
ful to  you,  and  revere  you,  and  love  yon, 
and " 

"Stop,"  said  the  Countess,  timidly,  "  dai 
enough.    You  say  you  weel  lofe  me." 

"Love  you?  of  course  I  will." 

The  Countess  sighed. 

"  Ah  well,  but  how  weel  you  lofe  me?" 

"  Why,  like  the  very  Old  Harry,"  said  Fred, 
simply. 

"  But  wf  el  you  really  lofe  me,  wit  real  lofe?" 

"I'll  love  you  as  the  kindest,  best,  brightest, 
dearest  of  women.  I'll  love  you  as  my  savior 
and  benefactor;  andRosie,  too,  will  love  you." 

"An  willa  you  be  alia  mine?"  asked  the 
Countess,  in  r  low  voice,  with  drooping  eyes. 

"All  yours?  why — why,  oh  yes,  of  course — 
of  course — that  Is,  oh  yes,"  said  Fred,  con- 
fusedly. 

"  Alia  mine?"  said  the  Countess,  stealing  a 
glance  at  his  face.  "  An'  you  weel  lofo  me — 
lofe  me  as  yours,  your  own,  an'  haf  me  as  alia 
your  own?" 

Fred  threw  a  hasty  glance  at  her,  and  then 
nfter  a  pause— 

"  Oh  yes— certainly— of  course— of  course. 
Oh  yes." 

"  I  see  you  not  und'stand,"  said  the  Countess. 
"  An'  you  not  spik  from  de  'art;  so  I  tell  you 
what  I  af  to  do,  and  den  you  lofe  me  better. 
Leesten  :  I  go  to  safe  de  Reset tiua,  and  I  gif 
mysef  up,  an'  fr«^o  'er." 

"What!"    cried  Fred.    "Give  up  yourself!" 

"Yes,"  said  the  Countess.    "Git  up  mysef." 

"But  won't  it  be  dangerous  to  you?"  asked 

Fred.    "Oh,  come  now.  1  don't  want  you  to 

incur  any  risk,  you  know." 

"But,"  said  the  Countess,  sadly  and  re- 
proachfully, "eflcan  safe  de  Rosettina,  you 
weel  be  content  to  see  me  go  to  danger  an'  to 
deat." 

"  Oh,  come  now,"  said  Fred.   "  Oh,  nonsense, 
you  know,  now." 
"Day  tink  de  Boaettina  to  be  me.    I  go, 


uth. 

four 
own 
iva- 


THE  BABES  IN  THE  WOOD. 


119 


'  dm 


glf  up  mysef.     Dey  dtii  let  'erfio,  au'  Idle." 

Fred  wa:)  Hilciit. 

"  But  de  lloaettiiia,  free,  an'  no  'arm  to  'er." 

"  But— liut— isn't  tliero  soiuh  otlier  way  of 
doinj;  it? "  aslied  Fred,  very  uiuuli  perplexed. 

"  Dere  eea  no  oder  way  dat  eea  possibile.  An' 
now,  I  go  to  lay  down  my  life  for  de  Roaetlina 
an'  for  you.  An'  I  weel  meet  deat,  and  die, 
for  'er  an'  for  you." 

The  Countess  spoke  80  sadly,  nnd  looked  so 
pntlietie,  that  Fred's  eyes  Hlied  wiili  tears.  He 
did  not  know  what  to  say  or  to  do.  So  he 
stooped  down  and  kissed  llie  beautiful  being 
who  sliowed  sucli  devotion — kissed  lier,  twined 
his  arms  about  her — ytt  did  not  ask  her  to 
stay;  a  curious  dog! 

"An  you  weel  be  mine?"  said  she,  smiling 
througli  her  tears. 

"I  will,"  said  Fred.    "If  yon  save  Rosette." 

"Alia  my  own,"  munuured  the  Countess. 

"  All,  all !"  said  Fred.    "  All  your  own." 

"An'for  affa?" 

"Yes,"  said  Fred.    "Forever." 

"II  mio  caro  sjjoso;  and  you  weel  make  me 
your  wife? '  said  the  Countess,  with  Italian 
frankness. 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Fred.  "But  I  say,  if  you 
are  going  to  lay  down  your  life,  liow  can  you 
be  my  wife?    That  sounds  like  an  Irisli  bull." 

The  Countess  drew  back,  and  looked  hastily 
at  Fred. 

"  What  you  mean  by  de  Iris  Bull  ?"  she  said. 
"  Dere  is  John  Bull,  an'  de  Papal  Bull." 

"Oh,  nothing,"  said  Fred.  "Only  I  don't 
see  how " 

"I  gif  my  life,"  said  the  Countess,  sadly, 
"for  lofe  of— you!" 

She  laid  both  her  hands  in  liis,  and  looked  up 
at  him  with  a  glance  of  affection  that  was  in- 
expressible and  most  piteous.  Fred  felt  him- 
self deeply  moved. 

He  folded  her  in  his  arms. 

"  Oh,  see  here  now,"  he  began. 

"No,  no,"  she  said,  sadly.  "  I  know  all  dat 
you  weel  say.  Say  no  more;  dere  is  no  lime. 
Say  only  one  ting.'' 

"What?" 

"  Dat  ef  I  safe  de  Rosettiua,  you  will  marry 
me." 

"If  you  save  littleRosie, I  will  marry  you." 

"You  swear?" 


"  I  swear  I  will— by— by  jingo!" 
"An'  now,  adio— caro- caiissimo." 
"Good-by,"  said   Fred,  and   ho   kissed  her 
tenderly. 

"  £f  1  safe  Rosettiua,  I  sail  send 'er  to  de  Em- 
bassy, and  you  sail  see  'er,  and  den  you  mus' 
come  to  see  uie;  ef  I  do  not  safe  "er,  you  weel 
neffii  see  me." 

Witli  these  words.the  Countess  walked  off, 
aud  soou  was  lost  to  view  in  the  darkness. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

OBASSATO     AND     FRED. 

Here's  Qrassato  hoping  yot 
That  he'll  win  Silas  'Arriet. 

For  some  time,  Fred  stood  motionless  upon 
the  spot  where  the  Countess  had  left  him,  quite 
mystified  by  the  late  scene,  and  wondering 
what  it  might  all  mean.  He  did  not  under- 
stand her  words  and  actions  at  all.  He  had  a 
vague  idea,  that  the  Countess  was  about  to  en- 
counter some  danger  for  the  purpose  of  sav- 
ing little  Rosette;  but  what  that  danger  might 
l)e,  he  did  not  know.  He  certainly  did  not 
suppose  that  It  would  be  serious.  Her  asser- 
tion, that  she  was  risking  her  life,  he  Inter- 
preted with  a  very  liberal  construction.  Such 
ns.sertions  as  those  had,  indeed,  become  rather 
stale  aud  hackneyed  to  his  mind,  for  he  him- 
self had  been  lavish  In  the  use  of  tliem.  As  he 
himself  had  offered  to  lay  down  his  life  for 
several  ladies,  he  might  be  excused  for  taking 
the  offer  of  the  Countess,a.(  meaning  no  more 
than  his  own. 

In  spite  of  all  this,  however,  he  felt  affecte<l 
in  spite  of  himself,  and  could  not  get  rid  of  n 
vague  feeling  of  apprehension.  There  had 
been  about  the  Countess  a  tenderness,  and  an 
earnestness,  and  a  certain  solemn  pathos,  such 
as  ho  had  never  seen  In  her  before,  and  tids 
made  him  suspect  that.  In  her  present  pro- 
ceedings, something  far  more  serious  thao 
usiuil  was  involved. 

Then,  there  was  the  promise  that  he  had 
given  her.  She  had  extorted  it  from  him.  Ho 
had  given  It  In  her  own  words. 

A  sense  of  uneasiness  arose  within  him  at  the 
recollection  of  this  promise.  But  this  was  al- 
leviated at  the  thought  of  the  conditions. 
Those  oonditlous  were  the  safety  of  Rosette. 


120 


THE  BABES  IN   TUB  WOOD. 


The  po88ibility  of  her  rcsc-iie  nns  Bomelhiug  so 
delightful,  that  it  quite  eclipsed  the  promise 
which  he  hud  made.  Her  pr&ii'iit  ))oailioii  wa8 
too  teri'ible  to  be  thought  of.  He  felt  that  the 
GouiiteBs  could  do  more  toward  eiiving  her 
than  any  one,  and  in  the  hope  of  seeing  her, 
he  forgot  everything  else. 

For  Fred,  as  he  said,  wns  "awfully  fond  of 
little  Rosette."  In  fact,  he  loved  her  better 
than  any  other  liumiiu  being;  and  better  even 
than  ilia  own  precious  self,  although  he  wat> 
not  aware  of  it  as  yet;  nor  did  he  understand 
the  nature  of  his  feelings  toward  her.  Only 
let  "  little  Rosie"  be  saved,  and  he  felt  willing 
to  marry  every  woman  that  might  aslc  liini. 

Witli  feelings  of  this  sort,  Fred  walked  bade 
to  the  British  Embassy  armory.  Here  he  was 
aucosted  by  a  man  who  hud  just  arrived. 

It  was  Grossato. 

"Af  you  found  Mees  Merivale?"  he  asked 
eagerly. 

Fred  shook  his  head  sadly,  and  said  nothing. 

Qrossato  stood  for  a  moment  in  silence.  In 
iact.he  was  deliberating  as  to  the  best  mode  of 
approaching  Fred  on  a  very  delicate  subject. 

That  very  delicate  8ul)ject  was  'Arriet. 

The  Italian  had  already  suggested  suspicions 
to  'Arriet,  and  had  awakened  jealousy  of 
Rosette  in  her  mind.  He  now  hoped  to  in- 
fluence Fred  also  by  means  of  Rosetle.  By 
this  means.he  would  deepen  tlie  estrangement 
which  had  already  been  produced  between 
Fred  and  'Arriet,  and  have  the  field  clear  to 
himself.  He  had  already  performed  tlie  role 
of  Savior,  Champion,  and  Benefactor  to  'Arriet. 
He  had  won  her  gratitude.  He  desired  more. 
Her  love.    Her  hand. 

Now  the  one  diflBculty  was  'Arriet's  infatua- 
tion for  Fred,  and  Fred's  ascendency  over  her. 
Tlie  way  to  destroy  that  ascendency,  was  by 
making  Fred  commit  himself  altogether  and 
hopelessly  to  Rosette.  Already  his  offence 
•gainst  'Arriet  had  been  unpardonable,  yet 
Qrossato  did  not  feel  sure  that  'Arriet  would 
■ot  forgive  him  at  the  first  request,  and  be  re- 
oonoiled  on  the  spot. 

"Eef  — you— af— not— card,''  said  Qrassuto, 
eautiously,  and  in  a  hesitating  way— "about 
Miss  Merivale— I  can  gif  you  de— informa- 
ilone." 

"What!"    cried    Fred,  grasping  Qrossato's 


arms  with  bis  hands,  and  lookiugathim  with 
breatliieas  eagerness. 

"I  say  I  can  Itll  you  about 'er"  continued 
Gras-'ato;  "luf 'card " 

"Wliat!  what!  B'or  Heaven's  sake,  man, 
speak  out!"  cried  Fred  iu  intense  excitement. 
"  What  have  you  heard  7" 

"  I  af  card  from  de  Republieaui,"  continued 
Grassalo. 

"TlieRepubliians!    ^VllatI    Where  isshe?" 

"  Slie  was  arrest " 

"  Confound  it— of  course— I  knew  that " 

"Aha!— so— you  know  dat!"— lepeated  Grns- 
sato,  in  surprise.  "  How  you  know  »  Who  tolo 
you?  An'  do  you  know  where  sliu  was  taken?" 

"No,  no— tell  me  whore,  so  that  I  can  go  and 
save  her,"  cried  Fred  in  a  fever  of  impatience. 
"  Tell  me  quick,  for  Heaven's  snkel" 

"She  was  taken,"  said  Qrassato,  "by  de 
Ri'Dublicani  to  deir  'ead  quartaire— lind  essami- 
nata— an  damnaia." 

Grassafo  looked  at  Fred  with  (jlose  scrutiny, 
as  he  said  this,  anxious  to  learn  the  effi-ot  of 
such  iulelligenceas  this. 

Fred  turned  deadly  pale. 

"Examined!"  ho  exclaimed.  "Examined 
and  condemned!  Good  Lord!  Do  you  really 
uiean  it?  Oh!  ray  dear  fellow.  Look  here! 
Can't  you  take  me  to  her,  or  at  any  rate  let 
me  know  where  she  is,  so  that  I  can  hunt  her 
up?  And  can't  you  come  along,  too,  so  as  to 
explain  to  ttiese  fellows  who  she  is?  Come. 
They've  made  an  infernal  mistake.  I'll  give 
myself  up  as  security  for  h(!r,  if  they'll  let  her 
go.    Come!" 

And  seizing  Grassato's  arm  again,  Fred 
would  have  dragged  him  away  on  the  instant. 

Grassato  held  back. 

"Wait,"  said  he.  "Let  mo  explain.  lean 
take  you  to  de  place  where  she  ees.  But  murk, 
you  may  find  'er  shot." 

"Shot!"  cried  Fred  in  horror.  "Shot!  What 
do  you  mean  by  that?" 

"  Dey  af  arrest  'er  for  a  spy." 

"A  spy!  What,  Roseitel  Little  Rosie  a 
spy!  What  infernal  tomfoolery  is  all  this?  She 
a  spy!    They're  mad!" 

Grassato  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Va  bene,"  said  he.  "  Dey  are  Republioani. 
Eet  eesdeRevoluzione;  dey  not  stop  to  tink. 
Dey  af  no  reason.    Dey  are  mud.    Mais,  you 


THE  BABES  IN  TUB   WOOD. 


181 


SCO,  do  Mces  ofs  iu  dutipur,  an'  8li«  may  be 
shot." 

"A  spy  I"  gronnud    Fred.    "Oh,    HeaveiisI 
onn't  tlio  asses  see  by  luT  face  what  she  is? 
But  why  do  I  wait?    What  are  you  stoppinj; 
hero   for?    Can't    you   come  with  me  now? 
You  say  she's  in  danger.  Come,  don't  lose  any 
more  time.    Do  you  linow  whore  siie  is  now?" 
"  She  is  in  tlioRotonda,"  said  Grassato. 
"TheRotonda?" 
"  Yes." 

•'  I  don't  know  it;  and  I  don't  care  where  sho 
1«.  Only  lake  me  to  lier.  Come,  show  me  the 
way.  I'll  ho  under  infinite  obligations  to  you. 
I'll  do  any  thing  for  you.  Only  you  do  this  for 
mo  now.  Come  unil  help  save  poor  little 
Rosle." 

With  these  words  Fred,  pulled  Grassato  by 
main  force  from  the  spot.    Grassato  allowed 
himself  to  go. 
"  Well,"  said  he,  "  I  go  wit'  you." 
"  But  can  you  get  Inside  the  place?"  asked 
Fred,  as  tliey  hurried  along. 
"  Oh!  yes." 
"How?" 

"  Oil  dey  not  stop  ma.  I  af  de  conSdenza— 
of  de  Republican!.  I  ben  a  friend  In  de  se- 
crets—an agente." 

"But— the  Countess— how  Is  that  ?  Are  not 
you  and  she  on  the  same  side?  The  Countess 
said  the  Republicans  hated  her,  and  were  seek- 
ing her  life;  and  she  said  that  this  was  tlie 
reason  why  poor  little  Rosie  got  Into  this  in- 
fernal scrape,  you  know." 
"TheCountess?"  said  Grassato 
"  Yes." 

"When  shesaydat?" 
"A  little  while  ago." 

"  Ah !  a  leetr  while;  an'  so  you  af  seen  'er?" 
"  Yes." 

Grassato  was  silent  for  a  few  moments. 
"  H'm,"  said  he  at  last,  "de  Contessa,  she  af 
took  de  wrong  side ;  but  I— I  af  de  friend  on 
bote  side." 

At  this  a  feeling  of  profound  disgust  came 
over  Fred.  By  tills  confession,  It  seemed, that 
Grassato  had  been  tlie  very  good  friend  of 
both  sides,  which  might  mean,  also,  a  traitor 
to  both.  And  so  Fred  despised  him  In  his 
heart.  But  It  never  for  one  moment  occurred 
to  bim  that  at  that  very  time  'Arriet  might  be 


tliinking  of  him  with  the  same  contempt,  as 
the  same  sort  of  double,  or  even  triple  traitor. 


CHAPTER  L. 

MOQINTY  AND  CAIIY  IN  PEHPLEJCrTT. 
Startling  rumors,  told  by  Gary, 
Of  the  captlvo  aecrotary. 

EvEn  sintte  McGinty  luid  left  'Arriet,  he  had 
been  searching  after  Kitty— but  searching  in 
vain.  Ho  had  gone  straiglit  to  the  lodgings  of 
the  Countess.  The  street  was  hi  an  uproar.  On 
forcing  his  way  througli  thecrowd,  he  reached 
the  liouse,  only  to  find  tliat  it  was  the  centre 
of  observation.  Red  Sliirts  were  on  guard  out- 
side, and  others  were  entering  and  leaving, 
lie  tried  to  get  in,  but  was  ludely  pushed  back. 
Ho  waited  on  the  street  all  niglit,  but  without 
result.  He  had  the  satisfaction,  however, of 
seeing  that  no  woman  was  brought  out,  but 
tills  was  more  than  counferlialauced  by  the 
thought  that  she  had  got  into  difflciiltles  before 
became.  Back  again  he  went  to 'Arriet,  and 
found  her  in  grief  still,  and  no  Kitty.  Then 
once  more  back  to  the  lodgings  of  tlie  Countess. 
Tiien  off  on  a  general  search,  v.hidi  resulted 
in  uotliing.  He  was  in  the  depths  of  despair, 
when  suddenly  ho  came  upon  Cary,  Into  whose 
faitliful  ear  he  poured  forth  all  tlie  tale  of  hit 
woes. 

Cary  was  full  of  sympathy. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "there's  no  end  of  con- 
fusion, and  there  ye  have  it;  but,  I  dare  say 
she'll  turrun  up  all  right  in  tlio  end." 

"But  haven't  you  heard  anytliing  about  her 
—about  a  lady  being  arrested?" 

"  Well,  let  me  see,"  said  Cary.  "  Ye  see, 
I'm  a  great  man  among  the  Insurgents.  I've 
been  ar  ,  ■  ;  ve  agent,  and  held  me  life  in  me 
hand  all  aiong,  which  was  the  reason  why  I 
couldn't  help  Rosette;  and  poor  Merivale  was 
mixed  up  only  the  smallest  bit  in  life.  They 
tuk  the  wrong  man,  so  they  did.  Howand- 
Iver,  let  me  see.  There's  the  Prime  Minister. 
They've  got  him." 

"The Prime  Minister!" 

"  Aye,  and  a  mighty  neat  job  It  was.  Did  ye 
hear  about  it  I" 

"  No." 

"Well  then  It  was  Grassato,  ye  know  him. 
He  was  sent  as  a  spy  over  ye's  all — the  Patter- 


K 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


son  |))irty— by  (liu  Roruati  Pulii'u;  but  uU  the 
(itUHihu  wail  uiio  of  118." 

"Tho  infunial  (Unll!"  growlfd  MoGinty. 

"Well,  yt''vi>};ol  tv)  work  with  dirty  tools,  go 
yoliuvu.  But  lliut  siimoiimii  isuRoiiinii  iiol)lf. 
Woll,  tlint  mtiiio  limn  Kot  liolil  of  tlie  Premier, 
pi'eteiidotl  to  be  talUtig  liiin  away  out  of  llie 
city,  and  drove  liim  in  lii.sowii  eoncli,  in  ainonf; 
tlie  Republicans.  Only,  I'm  tliinUing,  after  all, 
that  the  dirty  r<iseal,did  really  mean  to  save  tlie 
Minister,  and  was  surprised  by  our  men,  when, 
wliat  did  hedol)ut  hand  over  tlie  prisoner  with 
tho  best  f-Tace  in  tlie  worruld.  Well,  an' lliin 
they've  captured  also  tlie  Secretary  of  State. 
He  was  disguised  ns  a  monk,  with  a  big  um- 
brella, and  was  trying  to  get  up  a  rising  of  the 
people — a  reaction  again.-it  the  Repnlilio."' 

To  this.McGinty  paid  but  little  attention. 

"Well,  tlieii,"  said  he,  "  they've  arrested  the 
Countess  de  Carrara." 

"  The  Couiitesa  arrested !  what  for?" 

"Oh,  she  WHS  a  notorious  spy — went  a  good 
deal  among  the  English,  I'm  told.  Full  of  in- 
vention; full  of  pluck;  the  best  agent  they 
had;  I've  never  seen  her;  she  only  moved  in 
the  best  circles.  Well,  well,  I'm  uot  going  to 
blame  her,  for  cue  must  live.  But  I'm  going 
to  tell  ye  how  she  tried  to  oome  it  over  them. 
She  was  hauled  up  for  examination,  an'  wliat 
d'ye  lliink?  Why,  slie  pretended  that  she 
wasn't  the  Countess  at  all,  but  an  English 
lady." 

"Au  English  lady  I"  groaned  McGinty, 
aghast,  as  a  frightful  suspicion  came  over  him. 

"Yes,"  continued  Caiy;  "and,  I'm  told,  her 
play  was  perfect.  Tliey  talked  to  her;  they 
uttered  the  iKOSt  treineiijous  threats  evr 
heard,  and  Unally  condemned  her  to  be  shot. 
Any  man  (let  alone  a  woman)  would  have  given 
some  sign  of  intelligence,  some  indication  of 
fright  at  ail  this,  but  uot  she—for,  mind  you, 
she  was  not  supposed  to  understand  one  word 
of  it,  for  it  was  all  in  Italian.  Oh,  by  the  pow- 
ers, but  it  bates  the  worruld!  and  I  could  go 
down  on  inu  binded  knees  before  that  woman, 
in  clear  admiration  of  such  sublime  pluck, 
and  such  nerve.  I'd  nut  like  to  put  myself  in 
that  same  position,  and  go  through  that  same 
ordeal,  so  I  wouldn't.  She  never  flinched, 
not  once,  uot  she— more  power  to  her  elbow,  I 
gay.    Well,  they're  in  a  nioe  state  of    mind 


altogether.  Some  think  she's  the  divvel;  others 
think  that  she's  an  English  lady,  and  not  the 
Countess  at  all." 

"Not  the  Countess  1"  cried  MoGlnty 

"No — but,  then,  all  that's  knocked  in  the 
head,  for  tliey  found  her  card  case  in  the  pocket 
of  lier  dress,  au'  it  had  the  Countess's  name 
on  the  cards." 

McGinty  was  very  white.  He  regarded  Gary 
witli  a  f.ice  of  horror. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  ye?"  asked  Cary. 

"Kitty  went  there!" 

"Went  (here— went  where?" 

"To  the  Countess's  lodgings." 

"Well,  and  what  of  it?" 

"Perhaps  they've  taken  her  by  mistake." 

"But  how  could  they?  Wouldn't  they  know 
her?" 

"  They  don't  seem  to  have  been  sure,  since 
you  mentioned  a  division  of  opinion  among 
them." 

"True  enough,"  said  Cary;  "but,  then, 
didn't  they  find  her  card  ca.«e?" 

"Oh,  that  may  be,"  said  McGinty,  dolefully. 
"  It  may  have  got  into  her  pocket  someliow." 

"Not  nicely." 

"  Quite  as  Iikely,a8  it  is  for  a  woman  to  piny 
sucii  a  part  as  that.  I  don't  believe  It's  pos- 
fiible." 

"  At  any  rate,  the  Countess  did  it." 

"  I  don't  believe  she  was  the  Countess  at  all," 
said  McGinty. 

"  Don't  believe  she  was  thnCountessI  Why, 
wlio  else  could  she  have  been?" 

"By  Heavens,  Cary!  I'm  half  afraid  it  was 
no  other  than  my  poor  Kitty," 

"Wliat!"  cried  Cary,  with  a  stare  of  ainnze- 
ment.  "What!  By  the  Lord!  but  if  ye're  not 
the  greatest  specimen  of  a  self-tormentor  1 
ever  saw,  then  I'll  eat  my  hat,  so  I  will." 

"Well,  look  here  now,"  said  McGinty,  in 
great  agitation,  "she  went  to  the  lodgings  of 
the  Countess.  There  was  a  crowd  there  soon 
after.  As  far  as  I  can  make  out,  she  could 
but  just  have  got  there  when  the  Republicans 
were  down  on  her.  She,  poor  little  thing, 
couldn't  explain  anything  to  them.  They 
would  jaw,  and  row,  and  storm,  and  slie 
wouldn't  understand  a  word.  Then  they'd 
take  her  off  and  try  her— what  would  she  know 
about  it?  Then  they'd  condemn  her;  and  she'l 


TUE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


133 


W 


never  know  niiytliiiiK  nixxit  wh:it  wasKolnRon 
till  lliey  ttliot  her,  if  titieLlldii'tUle  nf  (rlKlit  be- 
fore. Aud  this  is  what  I've  brought  her  to! 
Oh,  fool!  vlllnhil  Idiot  thftt  I  iiiii!" 

"By  Ileaveufl,  MeOiiity!"  Biild  Ciiry,  "  yo've 
got  a  nay  of  putting  tilings  that  I  don't  Icnou' 
how  to  answer,  as  I  don't  know  enough  of  the 
circumstances.  Only  I'll  leli  you  what  I'll 
do " 

"What?"  asked  McQiiity,  In  great  exclte- 
tnont. 

"  I'll  take  you  to  see  her  with  your  own  eyes 
-anti  at  once." 

"  Do  you  know  where  she  Ul" 

"  Of  course;  she's  in  with  the  Pe-ime  Minis- 
ter, and  witli  tlio  Secretary  of  Slate,  and  the 
other  imitdnt  State  piisoners — in  theRotonda — 
the  Pantheon,  you  know,— tlicy've  took  it  for 
the  purpose.us  being  most  convenient  and  iini- 
nintly  Bhni(al>le." 

"  But  can  you  get  in?" 

"Oh,  I've  theentree — I've aoommand among 
the  Republicans,  and  t!an  get  you  in  there  if 
you  wish  to  seeu  friend,— and  so  come  along,  1 
say— an  we'll  settle  this  question  without  de- 
lay." 

The  two  thereupon  walked  away. 

"Have  you  heard  anything  of  Rosette?" 
asked  MoGinty. 

"No,"  said  Cary,  "not  a  word.  Why — what's 
the  matter  with  tier?" 

Tills  question  led  McGinty  to  explain  about 
her  arrest,  and  tlie  efforts  which  they  had 
made  to  find  her.  Cary  listened  in  deep 
anxiety. 

"Tliey  couldn't  have  taken  her  to  tlio  Pre- 
fecture," said  he,  "  or  elsesho  would  have  been 
free,  and  made  her  appearance  somewhere. 
I  believe  her  fatlier  is  back  again.  He'll  be 
coming  to  me  about  her.  Good  Lord,  McGin- 
ty! whatom  I  todo?  ile'll  hold  me  responsible, 
somehow.  By  Heavens!  McGinty,  this  is  the 
worst  news  I've  heard  yet.  She  may  have 
been  locked  up  somewhere  and  forgotten.  If 
they  have,  let  them  look  out!  We've  got 
enough  to  hold  as  hostages  till  they  bring  lier 
back — especially  two  sich  imiuint  ones  as  tiie 
Prime  Minister  and  the  Secretary  of  State." 

This  new  and  startling  information  served 
to  give  to  Cary  as  much  anxiety  as  McGinty 
felt,  and  but  little  more  was  said.    Each  bad 


now  his  own  care.  McG!uly  was  full  of  undi- 
minished horror  at  the  pros|>c(!t  drawn  by  \\\» 
imagination,  in  which  he  saw  Kilty  environed 
by  foes,  and  about  to  full  beneath  a  fiisileade; 
while  Cury  had  no  less  horror  at  the  possible 
fate  of  Ro.<ett(<,  which  possible  fate  presented 
itself  to  liis  mind  in  all  manner  of  forms. 

Cary  could  only  hope  to  llnd  some  informa- 
tion about  her  from  the  Prime  Minister  or  the 
Secretary  of  State,  who  were  confined  In  the 
Uotonda;  and,  therefore,  while  McGinty  was 
hurrying  there  in  order  to  seek  and  perhaps 
save  Kitty,  Cary  hurried  with  ecjual  haste  and 
equal  anxiety  in  order  to  learn,  from  some  of 
the  illustrious  prisoner8,new9  of  Rolette. 


CHAPTER  LI. 

THE    ROTONDA.— SCENA! 

Dramatla  PerBonio,  nil, 
Gather  iu  tUia  lufty  hull. 

In  the  confusion  of  the  times,  and  the 
general  overturn  of  law  and  order,  the 
Revolutionists  had  found  it  necessary 
to  appropriate  to  their  use  various  edifices, 
upon  which  they  could  more  convenient- 
ly seize.  The  most  conveniently  seizable  were 
of  course  churches,  and  of  these,  the  most  im- 
portant which  had  been  thus  appropriated,  was 
the  famous  edifice  known  in  Rome  as  "II  Ro- 
toada." 

Every  one  knows  Iho  Rotonda— a  stately 
portico,  rising  grandly  amid  tlie  meannesses 
of  later  and  more  paltry  architecture,  a  noble 
form  with  murks  of  hoar  antiquity  in  every 
stone— it  rises  before  the  eye — 

Simple,  croet,  sovoro,  <iustero,  sublime; 
Shrlno  of  all  saints,  and  temple  of  all  goda — 
Pantheon,  prldo  of  Rome! 

Tlie  truest  testimony  to  the  majesty  of  this 
ancient  temple,  is  found  iu  the  hmguai'eof 
Michael  Angelo,  who,  in  designing  the  dome  of 
St.  Peter's,  declared  that  he  wished  to  "  raise 
the  Pantheon  in  the  air."  The  interior  has 
the  same  sublimity  as  the  exterior,  without  the 
traces  of  Time's  defacing  fingers— a  simple 
dome,  with  Its  apex  disclosing  a  circular  open- 
ing, through  whioh  may  be  seeu  the  blue  vault 


124 


THE  BABES  IN  THE    WOOD. 


of  Ilmiveii. 
bu  suUl : 


Of  tliia,  too,  ns  of  Ht.  IVtur'n,  may 


Entnr;  It's  grnndniir  nvcrw holms  thoo  not. 
For  why  r  thou  art  not  limHonod;  but  thy  rnind, 
Expaiiilixl  liy  thn  goniuH  of  thu  itiioi, 
liuB  grown  uuluDMul.    •    •    ♦ 

Lut  11:4  ('liter  now,  mid  huo,  dear  rundur,  if  niiy 
of  our  frlt'Utls  aro  iH-rc. 

It  \«  iilKlit,  luid  IIk)  bliio  sky  just  mentioned. 
Is  no  longer  viail)Io  ttirougli  the  opening  of  I  lie 
doiuu.  Iiisido  there  is  n  great  crowd  of  people. 
Bomo  of  tlie»e  uro  ill  groups;  others  iiro  scat- 
tered al)oiit ;  otliera  stand  apart. 

Dy  onu  altar,  stands  ii  silent,  lonely  figure, 
arrayed  in  tiio  sotnlire  gari)  of  a  tnotilt.  In  Ids 
Iiand8,hu  liolds  an  uinhrelln,  to  wliioli  lie  clings 
as  though  there  Is  in  it  somo  protective  powei', 
whlio  his  bent  liend  fhowB  thatlio  is  engaged 
in  meditation  or  i)rayer. 

Seated  in  a  chair  near  l)y,ls  another  flgniv. 
IIo  is  robed  in  the  costly  npparei  of  ono  of  tiie 
lilghest  dignitaries  of  the  State.  A  long  inner 
roko,  of  the  nntiiru  of  a  tunic,  buttoned  to  tlie 
throat,  and  fastened  at  tho  waist  witli  a  girdle, 
form  bis  chief  attire.  Over  this  Is  a  loose  robe, 
with  sleeves  triniined  witli  ermine,  and  over 
this  agiiin  e  cloak,  with  a  hood,  which  eon- 
veals  bis  face.  This  per.sonago  is  of  so  exalted 
a  character,  that  he  is  regorded  by  the  Revo- 
lutionists as  their  obief  prize.  He  is  waited 
upon  with  deference,  and  regarded  with  re- 
spect. His  fato  is  the  subject  of  deep  discus- 
sion among  all  present,  and  among  the  leaders 
who  are  absent.  His  presence  here  Is  regarded 
by  somo  in  the  light  of  a  triumph,  but  by 
others  as  tho  greatest  misfortune.  Somo  hope 
to  win  bim  over  to  tlie  cause  of  tho  Republic; 
nnd  think  that  if  ho  should  embrace  their 
cause,  be  would  do  honor  both  to  himself  and 
them.  Othoi?,  again,  of  the  wild,  blood- 
thirsty Rod  Republican  order,  are  rather  anx- 
ious to  sacrifice  bun,  thinking  that  their  cause 
will  bo  more  secure,  if  it  is  stained  with  the 
blood  of  the  fallen  Prime  Minister. 

All  around,  are  the  now-triumphant  Red 
Shirts.  They  are  all  armed  to  tlie  teeth.  Their 
wild  faces,  and  their  wilder  costume,  together 
with  their  fierce  gesticulations,  make  up  a 
scene  flt  for  Salvator  Rosa.  Every  one  carries 
a  torch-light,  wliicli  throws  a  lurid  gleam  all 
around.    The  strong  alteruation  of  light  and 


shade,  tiio  red  glow  of  torches  against  the  bliiek 
ditrkiKiss,  would  make  a  scene  worthy  of  Rem- 
brandt. Other  artists  might  bo  mentioned  in 
the  Biinio  ('iirsory  manner  us  capable  of  deal- 
ing with  other  parts  of  this  nneiiualled  specta- 
cle, but  I  respecft  my  readers' patience. 

The    most    eminent    Red    Shirts   are    here, 
siieli  as: 
AuROHltto  and  his  friondH.    Stritnrnbo  nnd  hU  friends. 


Aioltiiimo 

do. 

8i'iilro<:liotto 

do. 

Audhtdujo 

do. 

Hodttvntoro 

do. 

llliidorHcalto 

do. 

TiittadamaKliono 

do. 

llrandoaiivatorn 

do. 

Oiai'chunopHu 

do. 

Clucchoiijo 

do, 

MonnaehlHcialnse 

do. 

DiiHtnc^iihitn 

do. 

Spr(!ddlKhllo 

do. 

I'VascholHcihl 

do. 

LuHdi<^cl 

do. 

Olu'iniiiluponnl 

do. 

Illaochlorbuzzo 

do. 

(loltMUlli 

do. 

ITbl)lblodo 

do. 

OhiRlornHrlalno 

do. 

QpHHupaciuidl 

do. 

(JiMiRoburo 

do. 

PcUelo 

do. 

JniK^hidudiUlo 

do. 

Orlnhacoho 

do. 

Lottcrrlppo 

do. 

8oiniipla8toro 

do. 

MiKlip'itp.ta 

do. 

AndorKanno 

do. 

MoIiisk;  Bchandi 

do. 

Olunpoehutto 

do. 

Nopoporino 

do. 

0|;ninal 

do. 

()nttl)Pndcro 

do. 

Uirbone 

ao. 

Poppermlnto 

do. 

Quffono 

dft 

Ploelntoomo 

do. 

Trombone 

do. 

Punclaeddo 

do. 

BchrandfinchofBno  do. 

RupHcalltono 

do. 

Bchullanbouo 

do. 

Hiipijjamufnno 

do. 

Ilovolveiro 

do. 

Squampangolo 

do. 

Buoinatfo 

do. 

Soalawnggo 

do 

Trlcoloco 

do. 

ScRrlnsIivo 

do. 

CloppiBoddofto 

do. 

Sourramucclo 

do. 

•   BiolBbronsauto 

do. 

All  of  whom  were  very  closely  watching  their 
illustrious  prisoner,  and  speculating  as  to  his 
fate. 


CHAPTER  Lit. 

THE  lULUSTniOUS  PRISONEns— ANQUISn    Or   THH 
PAPA. 

TremhllnR  prlsonerB  of  State, 
Bow  before  your  awful  fate. 

StJcn,  then,  was  tlie  position  in  which  tlio 
papa  had  been  placed  by  amostextraordinury 
concatenation  of  events,  and  llirongh  the 
power  of  a  baleful  Fate.  Arrested,  as  he  bad 
been  in  the  dark,  while  clothed  in  these  robes, 
in  tho  very  act,  too,  of  fligitt,  his  high  dignity 
liad  been  taken  for  granted,  and  had,  hitherto, 
been  respected.  For  his  own  pnrpo.ses,  and 
from  a  very  natural  desire  to  e«eoi)e  too  speedy 
a  detection,  the  good  papa  bad  sought  to  con- 
ceal bis  fuoe.  So  be  liad  pulled  the  skull-oap 
down  as  far  08  it  would  go,  and  then  he  had 
drawn  the  hood  of  his  cloak  well  over  his  head 


t 


TUE  nADES  IN   THE    WOOD. 


US 


and  iaoii.  Htl'.  hU  oiiplora  did  not  iiot'd  to  see 
Ilia  fiict'.  Tba  druM  wuh  of  iUcif  i^iifllcit'iil  to 
conviiu'o  t'luin,  lliiil  their  llliiiiti'lous  priMoiiiT 
wiiHiill  tilt  it-  fiiiicy  had  piiliited  liiiii;  wlillu  hi.-* 
n>8(M've,  lua  profound  Hili>ii(>t>,  lil«  fiiHliiuii  of 
lioldiiiK  Idmscif  aloof  from  Kvory  oii«s  only 
(ti'*'iiKtliuii(!il  till))  coiiviollon. 

A.4  foi'  tlio  papa,  liiH  pri'H(Mit  itituatlon  riiv<> 
liiiii  no  HurprUt)  wlialfVtT.  It  wan  i-xuutly  what 
ho  liud  anticipated  nil  alon^-  Wu8  lio  not  tlic 
Lord  IliKit  Oiauci'llor?  Waa  ho  not  iiliout  t» 
hold  n  Court,  and  prexidu  at  the  iinfiil  Tri- 
bunal as  Ciiiuf  Justlcf?  lit!  had  ttcuii  brouphi 
hero  to  (hU  phuui— tho  Ilolonda.  Of  tin-  Uo- 
tonila  h«  know  nothing.  But  this  stately  hall, 
with  ilHraiilliMl  dotiif,  wasrxaotly  stioh  a  pl;iOf 
lis  ho  had  often  linaKini'd— that  la,  tlut  Grand 
Coutic'il  CliniuhiM',  which  alHo  iniKht  ho  usted  for 
purposes  of  public  exainitiution  by  torture. 
Here,  too,  many  of  the  preliininary  touches 
might  bo  giveti  by  tho  more  Artistic  Torini!!!- 
tors— namely,  the  moro  showy  applications  of 
the  thumb  scruw,  the  boiling  oil,  tho  melted 
lea<l,  etc.;  hero  was  Um  vaulted  roof  which 
might  colic  tho  cries  of  tho  victims;  liero  was  a 
fountain  to  resuscitate  t  Iioho  who  fainted  on  the 
rack  or  the  wlieel ;  hero,  loo,  was  a  wide  open- 
lug  111  the  roof,  out  of  wliicli  might  escape  tlio 
smoke  of  the  burning;  liewc,  finally,  were  the 
Men  ill  Red,  tho  Ministers  of  Flame,  carrying 
tliose  torelies  with  wliioli  they  were  to  kindle 
theflr'js.whenever  the  fitting  time  migiit  come. 

The  papa  sat  near  one  of  the  altars,  Ids  face 
ooneealed  by  his  hood.  He  was  like  a  star,  nod 
dwelt  apart,  beaming  upon  all  arour..;  out  of 
his  venerable  eyes,  with  such  thougiifs  as  these 
to  enlighten  his  mind  and  diffuse  <  heerfulness 
through  his  being. 

Now  in  tlie  midst  of  such  thoughts  as  these, 
there  occurred  p.ii  interruption. 

Through  the  grand  portal,  the  pupa  beheld 
some  men  advancing,  who  approached,  biing- 
ing  along  with  them  a  female.  The  dress  of 
this  female  was  quite  familiar.  It  was,  in  fact, 
the  dress  of  Rosette.  Tlie  sight  of  this  dress 
awakened  associations  In  his  mind  whicili  wore 
of  the  most  painful  character.  Ttiis  female, 
he  noticed,  was  not  allowed  to  come  near  to 
him,  but  was  detained  some  distance  off,  and 
88  the  papa  supposed,  purposely. 

Tbe  papa  did  not  find  it  diflQoult  to  acoount 


for  her  presenoo  here.  It  was  Rosette.  She 
had  lieeii  arrested  like  himself.  8lie  had  been 
taken  to  a  new  prison,  like  himself.  He  had 
seen  her  in  the  last  prison.  Thence,  tliey  had 
both  been  brought  to  this  pl:ive.  Yet  how  dif« 
fereiit  was  their  respective  fates.  He  liad 
eoine  as  Judge — she  us  prisoner.  Other  prison* 
ers  would  follow!  other  viutlmsl 

Other  victims! 

Who! 

Thiilllng,    tremendous  qnnstlon! 

Who!  Had  the  other  members  of  his  family 
been  arrested?  Appalling  thou^'ht!  At  that 
thought  his  blood  froze  within  Ills  veins. 

And  what  if  this  should  be  the  trial  over 
whieli  he  was  to  preside?  This  the  trial?  away 
dread  thought!  VVliat !  this  the  trial— this— 
where  his  wife.  Ids  child,  would  be  brought 
lieforo  him— as  the  Juilge?    It  was   too  miiclu 

nut  for  Ilosellc— what !  {'ould  he  preside 
over  her  trial?  Could  he  behold  herseiifeneedt 
Could  lie  gaze  on  her  while  sireiched  out  on 
the  rack,  or  bound  to  the  sluke?  Awful 
thought!    Yet I  I  1 

Yet  what  could  lie  do  ?  He  must  look  out  for 
liimself.  He  could  not  risk  Ids  own  safety. 
He  must  keep  up  the  present  deteptioii.asiong 
as  pos^il)le,  or,at  ieast.until  he  might  see  some 
one  to  whom  lie  could  confess  all. 

But  the  crisis  was  a  fearful  one;— the  dilem- 
ma was  terrible,  and  the  papa  found  himself 
gradually  sinking  deeper  and  deeper  iiitoab- 
ji'(ft  horror  and  despair. 

Now,  while  the  papa  was  thus  overwhelmed 
with  the  agony  of  his  mental  confliet,  arising 
out  of  this  unparalleled  position  in  whieli  he 
founll  himself,  tlicro  was  one  not  far  away 
from  him,  standing  and  facing  him,  who  was 
a  prey  to  feelings  not  less  |)aiiifu]. 

This  was  tliat  illustrious  piisoner  who  was 
regarded  by  ail  liere,  and  commonly  spoken  of, 
as  tlie  Secretary  of  State. 

Cauglil,  as  this  individual  had  been,  in  the 
very  act  of  trying  to  ronac  he  populace,  Id 
tho  very  hour  of  the  triumph  of  the  Republic, 
he  was  regarded  ns  a  grave  offender,  who  was 
ina  very  critical  posilion.  Heliad  been  brought 
to  tbe  Rotonda,  while  bis  mad  attempt  waa 
even  now  under  consideration. 

His  Highness  was  disguised  in  the  robe  ot  a 
monk,  and    this  disguise  was  heightened    07 


126 


TUB  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


means  cf  a  liiigH  uinbrcHu,  to  which  Ilia  High- 
ness cluug  Willi  siiiguliir  pertiiinoity  even  after 
bis  arrest,  when  it  could  survu  no  possible  pur- 
pose. There  were  some,  who  at  the  outset  had 
doubted  that  it  was  the  Secretary,  and,  indeed, 
it  is  not  oasy  to  sny  how  tti«  opinion  liud  n;  i8^>'i, 
unless  tlie'.'o  may  have  been  some  resenibliince 
between  tlie  features  of  His  Highness  and 
those  of  the  mamma. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  the  doubters  had  lieon 
speedily  silenced,  and  the  perilous  position  of 
His  Highness  was  now  knowu  to  friends  and 
foes,  all  over  Home. 

And  so— there  stood  the  mamma  I  a  victim  of 
tlie  most  extraordinary  misapprehensions,  both 
in  others  and  herself.  For  others  regarded  hei- 
as  His  Highness,  while  she  regarded  them  all 
ns  emiss<-iries  of  the  Police. 

She  believed  herself  to  be  in  the  headquar- 
tersHif  the  Police.  She  believed  that  the  Men 
in  lied,  all  around,  were  the  gory  guards  of 
tyranny.  She  believed  the  gorgeously  arrayed 
personage,  seated  in  state  not  far  away,  to  be 
the  Supreme  Magistrate  of  the  Police. 

Ttius  tlie  mamma  had  become  a  prey  to  the 
general  delusion,  quite  independently  of  liie 
others, — just  for  all  tlic  world  as  though  there 
was  some  moral  epidemic  whieli  was  affecting 
the  minds  of  all  indiscriminately.  And  that  was 
the  reason  why  the  mamma,  with  her  cowled 
face,  kept  her  eyes  ll.xed  upon  the  papa,  wlio 
was  seated  close  l)y  her. 

Close  by,  and  yet  quite  inaccessible! 
.  For,  between  them,  there  were  three  Red 
Sliii'ts,  ull  armed,  all  bearing  torches,  who  liad 
been  stationed  here  on  purpose  to  M'litch  these 
illustrious  prisoners,  and  who  had  already  re- 
pelled several  attempts  of  tlie  niatnma,  to  get 
nearer  to  the  papa.  Fully  aware  of  the  re- 
sponsibility that  devolved  upon  them,  and  the 
immense  importanoe  of  these  two  exalted  pei^ 
sonages,  they  watched  them  both  with  muos- 
sant  vigilance  and  iiiexliauslible  patience. 

Now  the  mamma,  though  sore  distressed  aid 
aOlicted  both  in  mind  and  body,  liad  not  lost 
her  spirits  utterly,  but  still,  in  spite  of  nil  her 
cares  and  anxieties,  cherished  the  puipose 
which  had  brought  her  to  this.  Higher  than 
her  own  safety  and  comfort,  she  valued  the 
comfort  and-  safety  of  tlie  papa,  and  while 


here  In  prison  herself,  her  chief  thought  was 

of  release,  not  for  herself,  but  for 

Ilor  dearer  self. 
The  partner  of  her  life." 

And  let  those  who  would  point  the  finger  of 
scorn  ut  tlie  raammn,  think  of  this  devotion, 
and  be  silent. 

Now  the  mamma,  in  her  deep  anxiety,  had 
concluded  that  a  direct  appeal  to  this  Judge 
would  be  her  best  course,  and  would  secure 
a  more  immediate  result  than  any  other.  Per- 
haps, she  thought,  he  might  understand  Eng- 
lish. If  not,  it  was  at  least  very  possible  that 
he  might  have  nn  Interpreter  near.  In  any 
case,  she  thought  that  she  would  have  the 
chance  of  making  an  intelligible  appeal,  of 
clearing  up  matters  about  the  papa,  and,  per- 
haps, of  obtaining,  as  she  hoped,  an  order  for 
his  release  on  the  spot.  But,  unfortunately, 
thus  far  all  the  efforts  of  the  mamma  had  been 
rudely  repelled  by  the  vigilant  Red  Shirts,  and 
she  had  been  given  to  understand  that  no  ap- 
proach to  the  Judge  would  be  permitted. 

It  need  not  be  supposed.that  all  this  had  been 
unnoticed  by  the  one  who  was  so  deeply  con- 
cerned. On  the  contrary,  even  in  his  own 
deep  anguisli  the  papa  had  noticed  it  all. 

This  monk,  so  mysterious  and  raotionlesi, 
with  his  face  hidden  by  his  cowl,  holding  hit 
umbrella,  was  too  conspicuous  a  figure  to  be 
passed  by.  Above  all,  this  monk  stood  in  his 
motionless  attitude,  earnestly  and  wholly  in- 
tent upon  the  papa  himself,  and  was  making 
repeated  attempts  to  draw  nearer.  Whether 
these  were  really  efforts  to  come  to  him,  or 
merely  communications  with  the  Red  Shirt 
guard,  the  papa  could  not  quite  make  out,  but 
bis  nervous  agitation  made  him  regard  this  as 
a  new  cause  for  alarm  and  suspicion.  Tliero 
was  danger  here. 

It  was  this: 

This  watcliful  monk  suspected  him! 

That  was  the  reason  why  he  kept  standing  in 
that  fixed  attitude,  with  his  face  turned  in  his 
direction — a  face  hidden,  indeed,  from  sight, 
yet  still  showing,  in  its  forward  attitude,  an 
eager  regard,  a  sharp  and  all-devouring  scru- 
tiny. 

And  this  only  awakened  fresh  terrorn,  nnd 
mode  the  papa  pull  his  hood  farther  over  bis 


THE  BABES  IN  TUE   WOOD. 


127 


faeo,  and  keep  hisoyes  obstiiiaU'ly  turned  uwiiy 
from  this  dreaded  flguro. 

But  tliere  wua  yet  another. 

This  one  has  already  been  mentioned— tlie 
llguro  clothed  in  tlie  garb  of  Roaette,  whom 
the  pupa  had  taken  for  lier. 

Tliis  was  the  Countess. 

Into  tills  place,  then,  the  Countess  liad  been 
brought.  Yes,  she  had  kept  her  word  to  Fre(J ; 
she  had  given  herself  up  to  save  Rosette. 
Tliereby  she  had  risked  her  life.  She  knew 
well  that  she  was  regarded  by  tlie  Republicans 
as  the  most  active  emissary  of  the  fallen  gov- 
ernment, and  as  their  own  worst  enemy;  that 
she  had  already  been  condemned;  that  the 
only  danger  Rosette  ran  was  because  she  liad 
been  mistuUen  for  herself. 

She  knew  all  this  i>erfectly  well,  and  yet  she 
had  come  to  brave  it  all. 

Whetlu'r  slu^  could  come  out  of  this  adven- 
ture alive  or  not,  she  could  not  tell.  The 
ehanoos  were  terribly  against  her.  And  yet 
she  was  risking  everything  on  this  one  ven- 
ture. Such  was  now  her  wild  infatuation  for 
one  who  was  unworthy  of  sui'ii  asacrillce— one 
who  laid  proiuised  to  many  her  if  nhe  suc- 
ceeded, but  who  had  made  the  promisfe  with 
evident  reluutanee,  and  without  thinking  of 
what  he  was  saying. 

But  repentance  was  too  late.  Slie  oould  not 
now  go  back. 

Hitlierto  slie  had  accomplished  notliing,  and 
(his  dangerous  experiment  liiid  Ixn-n  made  in 
vain.  She  had  been  hurriedly  seized,  and 
bi'ought  in  here.  Of  Rosette,  she  had  seen 
notliing.  The  Chief  and  his  friends  hud  been 
too  liusy  to  notice  her.  She  hud  been  brought 
in  hero  without  even  tlie  satisfaction  of  know- 
ing whether  her  self-sacrifioe  had  been  avail- 
ing or  unavailing— yes,  even  without  ktiowing 
for  certain  whether  her  message  had  been  car- 
ried to  the  (7hief  or  not. 

And  thus  it  linppeiied  that  our  beautiful, 
obfirming,  ^et  unfortunate  Countess  was  quite 
as  full  of  distress.os  either  the  pupa  or  mam- 
ma. She  too  was  alone.  No  fi  lend  was  near 
with  whom  she  could  communieale.  She  too 
looked  eagerly  around  upon  the  scene,  to  try 
to  find  out  whether  Rosette  was  here  or  not. 
But  she  saw  notliing  of  her.  She  asked  the 
guards,  but  they  could  not  or  would  not  tell. 


Then  her  heart  sank  within  her.  She  began  to 
fear  that  all  was  over;  that  Rosette  had  al- 
ready perished,  and  that  her  own  act  of  heroic 
self-sacrillce  had  been  all  in  vain. 

Then,  in  her  despair,  as  her  eyes  wandered 
round,  she  saw  the  figures  of  the  Prime  Minis- 
ter and  His  Highness  the  Secretary  of  State. 
At  that  sight  all  her  old  loyalty  to  her  masters 
returned.  She  felt  a  deep  longing  to  go  near 
to  them  and  express  her  sympathy.  She  had 
heard  the  I'umor  of  their  capture  before  com- 
ing here,  and  now  saw  the  prisoners  them- 
selves. She  tiied  to  get  nearer-,  but  the  guards 
were  on  the  alert,  and  sternly  ordered  her 
back. 

Tilt)  papa  saw  iill  this. 

I'oor  little  Rosett*'!  bethought.  She  is  try- 
ing to  get  near  to  me.  She  thinks  I  am  th«i 
Lord  High  Chancellor.  She  wants  to  implore 
my  mercy.  But  what  can  I  do?  She  will  un- 
ddublcdly  be  burned — and  I— well,  I  may  be 
burned  immediately  after,  especially  if  that 
awful  monk  succeeds  in  discovering  me. 

And  at  this  thought,  the  papa  shuddered, 
and  pulled  his  hood  farther  over  his  face. 


CIIAITER  LIII. 

Stn    GTTOKNE     MEBIVALE. 

Hero  ot  last  upon  tho  scone  I 
Qlad  to  sou  yuu,  Sir  Eiiguno. 

WnEN  Orassato  had  persuaded  'Arriet  to 
leave  her  lodgings  he  had  already  arranged  to 
tak(i  her  to  a  place  of  refuge,  which,  under  ex- 
isting circumstances,  was  the  v<'ry  best  that 
could  be  procured  in  Rome.  This  was  the 
British  F,mt)!i.>:sy.  He  had  gone  there  first,  to 
mnke  a  request  for  protection  on  behalf  of  an 
Knglisli  lady,  and  found  the  Ambassador  quite 
willing  to  do  all  in  his  power.  Thus  he  was 
able  to  play  the  rolti  of  Savior  and  Champion, 
without  incurring  the  smallest  risk,  and  of 
phieing  'Arriet  in  safety  without  the  small- 
est inconvenience  either  to  himself  or  to 
her. 

On  her  arrival,  then,  she  was  received  with 
theutmost  kindness  by  the  Ambassador  him- 
self, who  in  spite  of  his  altitude  toward  the 
mamma,  now  turned  out  to  bo  what  is  com- 
monly called  II  "gentleman  of  the  old  school," 


128 


THE  BABES  IN  TUB   WOOD. 


quite  profuao  in  liis  words  of  welcoino  and  in 
Ilia  offers  of  nssislancc.  You  miiy  be  surofliiit 
'Arrietcliil  not  inform  him  of  iter  relationsliip 
to  a  certain  visitor  who  had  disturbed  liis 
equanimity  so  greatly  the  day  l)efore;  and 
(hat  tlie  Aiiibassado)' was  tlie  last  man  in  the 
world  to  trace  any  i°elatiouship  between  the 
Brnceful  and  beautiful  lady  before  him.and 
the  formidable  femiilo  who  had  threatened  to 
"brain  him  with  her  timbrella." 

Such  a  reception  as  this, was  most  welcome 
and  as  Grassufo  promised  to  enjiago  every V)ody 
in  the  work  of  hunting  up  her  parents,  'Arriet 
began  to  feel  more  reassured.  But  there  was 
■omething  more  iu  store  for  her. 

Among  the  people  who  had  flown  to  the  Em- 
bassy for  refuge  'Arriet  foui;d  I.er  friend ' 
Kitty.  Her  surprise  and  delight  were  inex- 
pressible, but  her  emotions  were  in  no  respect 
stronger  tiiaii  those  of  her  friend.  Each  had 
feared  the  very  worst  for  the  other,  and  each 
now  received  the  other  almost  as  one  risen 
from  the  dead.  Desides,  tlie  reappearance  of 
Kitty  served  to  reassure  'Arriet,  and  to  make 
her  feel  much  more  hopeful  about  her  parents. 
They,  too,  she  thought,  might  both  be  safe, 
and  would  probably  be  restored  to  her  before 
many  more  hours  should  elapse.  The  city  was 
full  of  disturbance,  which  might  easily  ac- 
count for  their  absence,  and  yet  tliere  was  no 
reason  why  either  of  her  pareuts  should  suffer 
^arm. 

Kitty's  account  of  herself  was  soon  given. 

She  had  left,  as  has  been  seen,  with  the  in- 
tention of  going  to  see  the  Cuuntess.  On  her 
way  to  her  chambers  slie  liad  suddenly  found 
herself  entangled  among  a  riotous  crowd,  who 
had  come  rushing  up  a  side  street  just  after 
she  had  passed,  cutting  off  all  retreat.  She 
tried  to  hurry  forward,  but  the  crowd  ran  too 
quickly  for  her,  and  what  was  worse,  they 
were  running  in  the  same  direction.  Before 
long  she  found  herself  surrounded  on  every 
side,  and  completely  enveloped  In  the  riotous 
mob,  out  of  which  she  found  It  impossible  to 
extricate  herself.  The  crowd  bore  her  along 
with  them.  No  harm,  however,  was  done  to 
her,  and  no  notice  was  taken  of  her.  Women 
and  boys,  as  well  as  men,  were  there,  and  the 
minds  of  all  were  too  preoccupied  and  too  in- 
tent on  some  common  purpose,to  allow  of  any 


one  taking  any  notice  of  any  individual.  At 
length  she  saw  among  the  crowd  a  familiar 
face.  She  recognized  it  at  once.  It  was  the 
face  of  an  Englisliman.  He  had  been  a  friend 
of  her  father's,  whom  she  well  remembered  as 
a  frequent  visitor  at  their  lodgings  during  lier 
former  residence  in  Rome.  She  succeeded  in 
getting  near  him,  and  claimed  his  help.  He 
recognized  lier  at  once,  and  assisted  her,  extri- 
cating her  from  her  unpleasant  position,  and 
bringing  her  to  the  Embassy. 

Such  was  Kitty's  sitory. 

To  this  gentleman  'Arriet  was  now  intro- 
duced, and  found,  to  her  surprise,  and  to  her 
no  small  confusion,  that  he  was 

Sir  Eugene  Merivale. 

Rosette's  papa. 

Kitty  had  already  known  this,  and  he  hvA 
already  heard  from  her  as  mucli  as  she  could 
tell  him  about  his  daugtiter's  adventures. 
Kitty  had  tried  to  soften  the  story  as  much  ns 
possible,  and  had  said  nothing  about  the 
harshness  of  old  Mrs.  Patterson,  or  the  rude- 
ness of  the  papa,  leaving  liim  to  suppose  that 
slie  had  experienced  no  particularly  bad  treat* 
ment.  Still,  it  was  evident  to  Sir  EugeueMeri- 
vale  that  his  daughter's  fate  must  have  been 
most  distressing,  imd  that  for  one,  so  inexpe- 
rienced,her  lot  has  been  most  severe.  All  tho 
blame,  however,  he  attributed  to  'dmself,  and 
liimself  only.  Bitterly  he  rei)ioailied  him. 
8elf,for  having  even  in  any  way  subjected  his 
daugliterto  tills.  Next  after  himself  his  blame 
fell,  not  upon  (he  Pattersons,  but  upon  Gary 
and  McGinty,  particularly  the  former.  He 
could  not  help  believing  that  something  far 
better  might  liave  been  done;  that  Rosette 
might  have  been  placed  in  some  concealment, 
where  she  would  have  been  less  liable  to  dis- 
covery, and  at  tlie  same  time  would  not  have 
been  subject  to  humiliation. 

But  now  the  worst  of  it  was.  Rosette  had 
vanished  from  the  scene.  Her  arrest  had  taken 
place,  and  since  then  all  trace  of  her  had  been 
obliterated.  The  convulsions,  the  tumults  and 
disorders  attendant  upon  the  Revolution  had 
spread  everywhere,  and  he  could  find  no  one 
who  could  give  hitn  any  information  of  any 
value.  It  would  be  necessary  to  wait, until  the 
community  had  settled  down  under  the  new 
order  of  lbiDgB,before  be  oould  hope  to  learn 


TIIE  BABEH  jy  TUiJ    WOOD. 


1S9 


anything  about  her.  Was  she  still  in  prison, 
or  had  she  escaped?  Into  what  prison  tiiid  she 
been  put?  If  slie  had  escaped,  wliitljer  could 
she  go  ? 

The  thouglit  of  his  poor  little  daughter,  alone 
and   friendless  in  the  riotous  and  raging  mob, 

emed  more  terrible  than  the  idea  of  her  l)c- 
•ag  in  prison.  In  the  latter  emergency,  she 
would  be  exposed  to  less  danger— she  could 
also  be  more  easily  traced  and  delivered.  But 
if  she  should  be  thrown  adrift  upon  the  streets 
of  Rome,  what  limit  could  there  be  to  the 
dangers  around  lier?  How  could  lie  trace  her? 
How  could  he  even  begin  to  search  after  lier? 
When  he  thouglit  what  an  utter  child  she  was, 
how  innocent,  how  inexperienced,  his  anxiety 
rose  to  its  full  height,  and  grew  quite  intol- 
erable. 

The  confusion  in  the  city  went  on  inerens- 
ing.instead  of  diminishing,  and  he  could  hear 
nothing  farther  about  little  Rosette.  No  one 
had  heard  of  any  such  a  person.  And  yet  Sii- 
Eugene  received  a  very  circumstantial  account 
of  a  certain  personage,  who  had  played  a  very 
important  pai  t.  The  account  was  minute  and 
enthusiastic,  given  by  an  eye-witness.  It  re- 
ferred to  the  attack  upou  the  Prisons  of  the 
Prefecture,  the  release  of  the  Prisoners,  and 
their  triumphal  march  through  the  city  amid 
the  shouts  of  the  people.  Among  them  there 
was  what  the  narrator  called  an  American 
Princess,  as  beautiful  as  an  angel,  who  had 
borne  a  conspicuous  part  in  the  scene.  Tiie 
narrator  dilated  in  eloquent  language  upon 
her  beauty  and  her  esprit,  but  Sir  Eugene 
never  for  a  moment  suspected  that  there  was 
any  connection  between  her  and  his  daughter. 
He  saw  in  her  only  some  brilliant  adventuress, 
some  distinguished  intriguante,  or  lady  poli- 
tician. 

At  lastjhe  heard  of  certain  illustrious  prison- 
ers who  had  been  captured  by  the  Republicans, 
and  were  iiow  in  their  hands.  It  occurred  to 
him  that  something  might  be  learned  by  an  ap- 
peal to  these  men.  At  the  same  time,  if  they 
should  know  nothing  of  Rosette  themselves, 
they  might  give  him  information  as  to  the 
person  or  persons  who  would  bo  likely  to 
know. 

Of  this  decision,  'Arriet  was  informed.  She, 
too,  felt  a  strong  desire  to  unite  with  Sir  Eu- 


gene in  an  appeal  to  the  said  *' illustrious  pris- 
oners." For  she  could  not  help  feeling  con- 
vinced that  her  papa  had  shared  the  fate  of 
Rosette,  whatever  that  was,  and  any  informa- 
tion about  the  one  would  be  equally  useful 
about  the  other.  Nor  was  Sir  Eugene un"  il ling 
that  she  should  accompany  him.  He  felt  that 
'Arriet's  papa  hud  been  arrested,  solely  be- 
cause he  had  been  considered  an  accomplice  of 
the  fugitive  Meiivale,  and  was  concealing  his 
daughter  from  the  authorities;  and,  therefore, 
ho  was  quite  willing  to  do  all  in  liis  power  to- 
ward restoring  him  to  his  fiimily.  'Arriet  also 
persuaded  Kitty  to  go  with  lier,  so  that  she 
miifht  give  her  some  moi'al  support;  and  thus 
it  happened  that  ttiese  three,  like  the  rest  of 
our  friends,  were  all  directing  their  steps  to- 
ward the  Rotonda. 


CHAPTER  LIV. 

THE    FIRST    EXPLOSION. 

Very  much  surprised  Is  Gary 
At  the  captive  Secretary. 

The  ingenious  Gary  led  the  anxious  MoGinty 
to  the  Rotouda,  and  found  no  difQculty  about 
getting  in. 

He  learned  from  one  of  the  guards  that  the 
Countess  had  been  really  arrested;  that  she 
had  not  yet  been  shot;  but  had  been  sent  here 
into  the  Rotonda,  in  which  place  she  now  was. 

At  which  intelligence  the  two  friends  felt  an 
immense  load  of  anxiety  taken  off  their  minds, 
and  at  Cary's  request  one  of  tiie  Red  Shirts 
pointed  out  the  Countess  to  them. 

They  saw  her  at  a  distance — a  female  form- 
on  her  knees.  She  was  kneeling  before  one  of 
the  altars.  Her  arms  were  folded  on  her 
breast.  Her  head  was  bowed  low.  In  that  at- 
titude it  was  not  possible  to  see  her  face,  nor 
was  the  light  strong  enougli  to  reveal  her 
figure  very  clearly. 

The  two  were  compelled  to  draw  nearer. 
They  approached  close  enough  to  see  the 
rounded  outline  of  lier  cheeks,  but  her  fea- 
tures they  could  not  see.  Her  head  was  bowed 
down  low,  and  she  was  motionless  in  that  atti- 
tude, absorbed  either  in  prayer  or  in  medita- 
tion, and  quite  oblivious  now  about  external 
things. 

"la  that  the  Countess?"  asked  Cary. 


ISO 


THE  BABES  IJST  THE   WOOD. 


Now  McGiuty'fl  idea  of  the  Countess  was 
that  of  nn  elegant  Iticly,  dressed  in  tbe  heiglii 
of  fashion,  whilu  the  figure  before  him  was  that 
of  a  common  girl — plainly  dressed — lookitig,  in 
fact,  more  like  a  lady's  maid  than  a  Countess; 
and  so  he  at  once  decided  that  it  was  not  that 
person. 

"No,"  said  he,  in  a  low  tone,  yet  very  decid- 
edly, "  that's  not  the  Countess  at  all." 

"Whatl"  cried  Cary.  "The  divvle  it  isn't! 
Then  all  I've  got  to  say  is  that  they've  taken 
the  wrong  woman — and  she  must  have  been 
English  after  all.  Heaven  send  that  it  isn't 
your  Kitty.  If  it  turruns  out  to  be  her  she'll 
have  had  a  divvle  of  a  time  of  it,  so  she  will." 

McGiuty,  meanwhile,  stood  staring  fixedly 
at  the  kneeling  figure. 

At  length  he  turned  to  Cary. 

"  It  isn't  Kitty's  dress,"  said  lie,  "but " 

"But  what?" 

"  Why,  Kitty  may  have  changed  her  dress." 

"  Changed  her  dress?  Nonsense,  man.  What 
ireasou  would  she  have  had?" 

"  Why,  to  escape." 

"  She  wouldn't  want  to  escape,"  said  Cary. 

"  Oh  1  she's  been  afraid  of  being  arrested, 
:iike  the  others," 

"  Pooh!  man;  don't  make  things  worse  than 
they  are.  Come  along,  and  let's  find  out  where 
they  got  this  woman." 

And  Cary  tried  to  draw  him  away. 

McGinty  refused. 

"No,"  said  he;  "I'll  wait  here  and  see  her 
face  when  she  turns  round." 

"  Well,  I'll  take  a  turrun  about  here,  and 
see  if  I  can  get  any  information  about  poor 
little  Rosette.  Tliere's  His  Highness  over  there. 
I'll  go  and  see  him.  He  can  tell  me  if  she  was 
put  in  the  Prison  of  the  Prefecture.  He'll 
know  if  any  one  does." 

And  with  these  words,  Cary  turned  away 
and  went  off,  leaving  McGinty  standing  there, 
gazing  at  the  kneeling  figure,  and  waiting 
for  her  to  rise  or  to  turn  her  face. 

Cary  now  directed  his  steps  toward  the  "8e- 
ort'tary  of  State,"  as  he  thought,  in  the  hope 
that  he  might  learn  something  about  Rosette. 

His  Highness,  the  Secretary  of  State,  still 
stood  in  tbe  same  place,  clinging  to  the  big 
umbrella,  and  gazing  at  the  supposed  Police 
Judge. 


To  this  one  Cary  drew  near,  and  on  present- 
ing himself  before  the  illustrious  prisoner, 
made  a  profound  bow. 

Tiie  mamma  turned  and  looked  at  him  with 
an  abstracted  gaze,  which  gradually  grew 
uioro  searcliing  in  its  character.  Perhaps  tbia 
man  might  help  her. 

Cary  now  pro(!eeded  to  make  known  his 
wishes.  He  had  arranged  a  neat  form  of  ad- 
dress, and  began  in  Italian. 

"  In  presenting  myself  before  Your  High- 
ness, permit  me,  first  of  all,  to  express  my  pro- 
found symjiathy  with  the  present  unfortu- 
nate condition  of  Your  Highness,  and  to  indulge 
in  the  liopu  that  it  will  be  of  brief  duration." 

At  (his  the  mamma  shook  her  head. 

Cary  took  no  notice  of  this,  but  went  on  in 
the  same  strain  a  little  longer. 

The  ma..ima  agaia  shook  her  head.  She  was 
wondering  whetlier  be  knew  English  or  not, 
and  was  trying  to  think  of  the  best  plan,  un- 
der present  circumstances. 

Cary  continued  his  speech. 

At  length  he  paused. 

Themammashook  her  head  harder  than  ever. 

"  Me— no— utid— stand,"  slie  said;  "me — no 
— spikky— Italiani— me  Iiigelis." 

At  this,  Cary  started  back  as  though  he  had 
been  shot.  Then  he  stared  hard  at  the  mam- 
ma.   Then  an  exclamation  burat  from  him. 

"What!  !  !  !  '  lie  cried.  "Murder  an'  Irish! 
but  what's  all  this?" 

« 

At  this,  it  was  the  mamma's  turn.  These 
familiar  sounds  acted  upon  her  like  an  eleotriu 
shock.    She,  too,  started  back. 

"What!  !  !  !"  she  cried;  "are  you  a  Hing- 
lishman?" 

"No,  I'm  an  Irishman;  but  who  the  divvle 
are  you?"  said  Cary. 

This  was  enough.  At  last  she  had  found  a 
friend  who  could  understand  her,  and  tbe 
mamma  began  straightway  to  pour  forth  all 
her  woes  in  one  torrent  of  words. 

Grasping  Cary's  arm,  she  began : 

"  Oh,  sir!  'elp  me,  sir.  I'm  a  poor  lone  wo- 
man, sir,  that's  lost  'er  'usband,  sir;  which  'e'a 
be'n  nn'  gone  an'  be'u  put  in  the  Police  dun- 
geons, sir;  an'  I've  be'n  a  'untin'  of  'im  hup, 
sir;  an'  they've  gone  an'  nabbed  me,  nn' 
throwed  me  in  'ere,  sir.  An'  oh,  sir!  there's 
tbe  Police  Magistrate  'imself,  sir,  aeettin'  over 


THE  BABES  IN  THE  WOOD. 


ISl 


tbere,  sir;  au'  if  so  be  as  you  ouu  speak  Hy- 
talian  to  'lin,  mebbe  you'd  be  so  good  as  to  go 
over  to  'im  now  with  me,  au'  tell  'im  'oo  I  am, 
an'  baut  oa  Hiuterpreter,  sir;  au'  if  'e  kuona 
about  my  'usbaud,you  tell  'im  il  was  all  a  mis- 
take, as  tiever  was— au'  'im  as  meek  au'  liiuuo- 
ueut  as  a  babo  uuborued,  and  never  did  uotb- 
iuk  to  'arm  a  oliild,  let  alone  a  puttiuk  of  'im 
in  tbe  Police  duugeous." 

At  tbis,  wbicb  was  all  poured  fortb  in  a  head- 
long torreut  of  words,  Cary  stood  perfectly 
amazed. 

Already  be  had  suspected  that  tbe  woman 
prisouer  whom  be  and  McGiuty  bad  seen, 
might  not  be  the  Countess;  and  now  he  per- 
ceived, to  his  utter  consternation,  that  the 
prisoner  before  him,could  not  possibly  be  His 
Highness,  the  Seoretary  of  State— worse  still— 
this  prisoner  was  not  eveu  a  man- she  was  a 
woman! 

Cary  stood  perplexed,  not  knowing  what  to 
say. 

Could  any  mistake  be  more  utterly  outrage- 
ous than  this? 

"A  woman  1"  exclaimed  Cary,  as  soon  as  he 
found  voioe;  "why,  what  the  mischief  do 
you  mean  going  about  dressed  up  in  this 
fashion?" 

"Ob,  sir,"  wailed  tbe  mamma,  "it  was  to 
'elp  my  'usband,  sir;  which  I  went  disguised, 
sir,  to  enter  into  'is  prison,  an'  try  to  see  tlie 
Police  Magistrate,  you  know,  kind  sir;  which 
'is  name  is  Billy  Patterson,  if  you'll  kindly 
mention  it,  an'  I'm  'is  wife,  Mrs.  Patterson,  at 
your  service,  kind  gentleman,  and  thankin' 
you  kindly,  sir." 

At  this  name  Cary  received  a  new  shock  of 
surprise.  He  gazed  upon  tbe  mamma  in  a  state 
of  bewilderment. 

" Patterson  1"  be  repeated.  "Good  Lord! 
what  next?  Patterson!  Why  then  you  must 
know  my  friend  McQinty?" 

"McGinty,"  said  Mrs.  Patterson.  "  No,  dear, 
kind  gentleman.  Never  knowed  any  McGinty 
—didn't  know  no  gentleman,  kind  sir,  savin' 
your  presence,  but  Mr.  Fotherby  and  Mr. 
Smitbers " 

"amitbers."  said  Cary.  "Ob— ah— I  see- 
yes— well,  well— this  does  bate  tbe  worruld  en- 
tirely, Bo  it  does,  and  there  you  have  it.  Well, 
my  good  woman,  Pvegotafew  things  to  ask 


the  Minister  for  myself— and  I'll  ask  for  you  at 
the  same  time.    So  come  along." 


CHAPTER  LV. 

THB      BEOOND     E X P L O S I O N  . 

Hal  what  figure  do  I  see? 

'Tia  the  Gouatess.    Goodness  me  I 

Meanwhile  the  papa,  in  bis  loneliness,  as 
he  sat  apart  from  tbe  crowd,  bad  witnessed  this 
scene ;  but  be  bad  heard  not  a  word.  For  the 
noise  of  the  great  crowd  rising  up  and  echoing 
through  the  vaulted  dome,  was  sufficient  tu 
muffle  and  drown  every  other  sound,  so  that 
their  words  did  not  reach  bis  ears.  Still  be 
suw  tbe  scene— tbe  attitudes  and  tbe  gestures 
of  tbe  two  speakers. 

Upon  this,  he  put  his  own  construction. 

The  keen-eyed  and  vigilant  monk,  thought 
the  papa,  was  telling  bis  suspicions  to  tbe  new 
comer.  Tbe  danger  was  drawing  uearear.  He 
did  not  know  what  to  do.  He  felt  like  a  lost 
man.  He  could  only  resolve  to  keep  bis  secret 
until  the  last. 

At  length  be  saw  that  they  stopped  convers- 
ing. They  turned.  They  were  looking  at 
him.    They  were  approaching  him. 

Awful  moment! 

The  papa's  soul  quaked  wlthio  him,  and  then 
sank  down  into  deeper  abysses  of  despair. 

The  two  were  soon  before  bim.  The  papa 
mechanically  drew  the  bood  a  little  further 
over  bis  face. 

It  was  bis  last  pr«K)autionary  measure. 

Gary  bowed  low. 

Tbe  mamma  did  tbe  same. 

Then  Cary  began : 

"  Eccellenza,"  said  be,  speaking  of  course 
in  Italian,  "  I  beg  to  assure  your  Highness  of 
my  moat  profound  attachment  to  your  person, 
and  my  most  respectful  sympathy  with  your 
misfortunes;  and  to  express  my  deep  desire  to 
do  anything  that  may  add  to  your  com- 
fort   " 

He  paused. 

Of  course  the  papa  hod  understood  nothing; 
but  judging  that  be  was  expected  to  say  some- 
tblug,  he  bad  recourse  to  those  formulas  which 
bad  carried  him  thus  far. 


132 


THE  BABES  IN  TEE  WOOD. 


"  Temj>U8  fuglt,"  auid  Lu,  iu  a  scarce  audible 
voice. 

Ciiry  did  not  quite  catch  the  words,  but  tooli 
tliem  us  siguifyiug  williuguess  to  bear  further, 
8u  he  weut  ou. 

"I  would  uiost humbly  crave  permission  to 
aslt  iufoi'iuutiou  of  your  Hi^thuess  iibout  cer- 
tain dear  friends  of  mine,  and  also  of  this— al> 
—ah— ah— lady." 

At  this  point  Cary  indicated  tlio  mamma  by 
a  gesture,  and  hesitated  as  to  tlio  riglit  desig- 
nation'wliieh  he  mlgtit  apply  to  so  extraordi- 
nary a  figure.  But  tliu  nuunma,  finding  her- 
self thus  alluded  to  and  pointed  out,  and 
thinking  tliat  the  siuie  had  cume  for  lier  to 
UKilio  a  direct  appeal,  loi-getting  also,  iu  her 
anxiety,  that  "  His  Highness"  might  not  un- 
derstand a  word  ot  what  she  would  say,  and 
too  impatient  to  restrain  herself  any  longer, 
now  pressed  forward,  and  fell  upon  her  knees. 
"Oh,  your  Majesty,"  exclaimed  the  mamma, 
"have  pity  upon  a  poor,  lone  woman  as  'as  lost 
'er 'usband— which 'us  put  on  (his  disguise  to 
Bud  my  way  to  your  'Igliness— an'  bun  arrest- 
ed on  the  'ighway  for  tryink  to  find  my  'us- 
band, poor  old  Billy  Patterson,  which  'e's  ben 
arrested  by  the  liorflcers  of  the  Police,  and 
throwed  into  a  dungeon.  An'  I've  ben  to  the 
Henglisli  Hambassador,  an'  'e  treated  me  with 
ejus  hiusults;  an'  I've  no  'ope  but  in  your  'Igh- 
ness;  an'  oh,  it's  on  my  bended  knees  I  ask,  an' 
will  hever  pray,  us  iu  dooty  bound,  an'  hever 
shall  be— an'  long  may  your  Majesty  live,  an' 


here  to  the  common  place  of  justice  and  puu- 
ishment.  And  waa  this  unspeakable  anguish 
indeed  before  him,  tluit  he  must  preside  over 
the  trials  of  such  prisoners  as  these— tliat  he 
must  condemn  little  Kosette,  and  then  this 
most  faithful  and  affectionate  of  wives?  His 
Loowheezer!  Could  ho  do  it?  And  what 
more?  Was  'Arriet  here,  too?  Would  she  be 
the  next  wictim  ?  Was  llicro  this  fresh  horror 
before  him?  Was  it  possible  that  ho  could 
control  himself  any  longer,  or  keep  up  this 
false  cliaracter  any  further?  And  yet  what 
else  could  ho  ilo?    He  must  keep  it  up  or  die. 

And  yet— why— was  all  indeed  lost?  This 
gentleman— who  was  lie?  Evidently  he  must 
f-pcuk  English,  since  he  could  communicate 
with  Loowheezer.  Why  not  appeal  to  hiui — 
thiow  himself  upon  his  mercy— tell  him  all? 

The  papa  half  determined,  but  was  halt 
afraid.  He  liad  kei)l  it  up  so  long— he  had  im- 
plicated himself  so  deeply,  that  lie  hardly  knew 
how  to  begin  his  explanation.  So  he  hesitated, 
and  sat  trembling  in  his  indecision,  wavering 
now  this  way  and  that,  while  the  mamma  was 
speaking  and  Cary  was  translating  her  words 
from  familiar,  mamma  English,  into  unintelli- 
gible Italian;  adding  also  a  good  deal  of  his 
own,  in  which  the  papa  thought  again  and 
again  tliat  lie  could  distinguish  the  word  Ro- 
sette. But  tills  made  liim  suddenly  suspicious 
tliat  the  stranger  was  one  of  the  agents  of  the 
Police — a  Secretary  or  an  Interpreter,  perhaps, 
and  that  he  was  now  giving  him  information 


let  my  poor  ole  Billy  go  free  afore  'e  dies  of  a  |  regarding  the  prisoners  that  were  to  be  tried 


broken  'eart." 

As  this  outburst  began,  and  that  well-known 
voice  sounded  in  the  papa's  ears,  his  sudden 
amazement,  agitation,  confusion,  well  nigh 
overwhelmed  him.  For  a  few  moments,  tlie 
whole  world  seemed  to  be  whirling  in  the  air 
around  him.  All  thought  and  consciousness 
fled.  Beyond  the  mamma's  Jlrst  words  be 
heard  nothing.  Gradually,  however,  liis  fac- 
ulties came  back.  The  deep  sense  of  his  own 
perilous  position  forced  him  to  rally  from  his 
confusion. 

Fis  wife!  His  Loowheezer!  He  knew  that 
voicel  It  was  herself!  And  had.it  come  to 
this?  That  faithful  woman  had  ventured 
forth  to  save  him— had  been  tracked  by  the 
emissaries  of  the  cruel   Police,   and  brought 


At  length  Cary  ended,  and  stood  wailing  for 
an  answer. 

The  papa  then,  not  knowing  what  else  to  say 
began  with  his  usual  formula: 

"  Pa— pa— pax "  he  began,  stammering. 

And  he  ssiid  no  more. 

For  now  loud  voices  and  a  great  uproai;made 
them  all  look  iu  the  direction  whence  the  dis- 
turbance came. 

Let  us  see  what  this  was. 

Shortly  after  the  entrance  of  Cary  and  Mc- 
Gitity,  Fred  hud  arrived  wltli  Grassato,  and 
they  also  wereadraltted  withoutany  difiQculty. 

Grassato  asked  after  the  prisoner  called  tlie 
Countess  di  Carrara.  The  prisoner  was  shown 
to  him,  whereupon  he  and  Fred  walked  toward 
her,  neither  of    them  doubting   that  it  wa» 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


133 


Bosetiv..  Nor  did  the  dresi  undeceive  Fred, 
for  he  Imd  been  so  accustomed  to  see  her  in 
that  dre8!i,onIy  that  lie  forgot  all  about  the 
exohanse  which  she  haJ  made  with  the  Count- 
ess, and,  for  the  iuomeiit,(li(l  not  Ihiuk  that 
Rosette  was  in  an  entirely  different  costume. 
Fred,  therefore,  with  his  usual  reckless  im- 
petuosity, hurried  toward  her,  and  without 
respecting,  like  McGinty,  her  attitude  of 
prayer,  sprang  at  her,  with  a  lieadloug  bound, 
as  she  knelt,  flung  his  arms  around  her  and 
raised  her  up. 

"Oh  Rosie,  Rosie,  darling,  darling  Rosie! 
Oh,  my  own!"  cried  Fred— together  with  a 
vast  quantity  of  pet  names  and  expressions  of 
tender  endearment,  in  the  use  of  which  Fred 
was  a  sad  proficient ;  wliile,  as  the  face  of  the 
Countess, was  turned  away,  he  was  not  unde- 
ceived, but  went  on  iu  this  foolish  way  for 
some  time. 

Now  McGinty  had  convinced  himself  that 
the  kneeling  figure  was  no  other  than  Kitty 
—and  had  been  waiting  patiently  for  her 
to  look  up,  so  that  when  he  saw  Fred  spring 
toward  her  and  seize  her  iu  this  frantic 
fashion  his  blood  fairly  boiled  with  indigna- 
tion. 

He  sprang,  too,  full  at  Fred,  and  seized  him 
by  the  coat  collar  with  one  hand,  while  with 
the  other  he  seized  the  trembling  hand  of  the 
Countess. 

"Confoundyou!"  heroared.  "  Youiufernal 
puppy,  what  do  you  mean?" 

And  he  tried  to  free  the  Countess  from  Fred's 
grasp. 

Fred  glared  upon  him  with  savage  ferocity. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  cried.  "Go  to 
blazes,  or  I'll  punch  your  head !  Don't  you  see 
it's  Rosette?" 

"  It  isn't.    It's  Miss  Kinnear." 

The  Countess  couldn't  speak;  she  couldn't 
move.  Fred's  grasp  was  so  tight,that  she  was 
helpless. 

But  the  quarrel  of  these  two  brought  the  Red 
Shirts  all  around,  and  soon  there  was  a  wild 
uproar  which  ascended  far  on  high  with  deaf- 
ening eohoes. 

These  Red  Shirts  violently  interfered.  The 
Countess  was  immediately  freed.  She  turned. 
Lights  from  the  torches  around  fell  upon  her 


face,  and  both  Fred  and  McGinty  were  dumb 
with  disappointment. 
Tableau  I 


CHAPTER  LVI. 

THE  GBAND  EXPLOSION  OF  AIX. 

Here  bonoath  tho  dome  of  Crosar, 
Billy  meets  his  own  Loo— wheezer. 

Thus  the  Countsss,  McGinty,  and  Fred  were 
all  suddenly  brought  face-to-face,  while  all 
three  were  overwhelmed  with  various  emo- 
tions. 

But  at  that  very  instant,  a  stern,  command- 
ing voice  pierced  tlie  general  clamor,  and  the 
crowd  made  way  for  some  new-comers. 

It  was  the  Red  Chief  who  approached  the 
spot,  leading  some  others,  his  eyes  looking  in 
all  directions  with  a  keen,  searching  glance. 
That  glance  fell  upon  the  little  group  just 
mentioned,  and  the  Red  Chief  looked  a  little 
puzzled. 

Nor  was  the  puzzle  any  less  to  those  who  fol- 
lowed the  Red  Chief.  These  were  all  old  friends 
of  ours— namely.  Sir  Eugene  Merivale,  'Arriet, 
Kitty,  who  had  set  forth,  as  already  stated, 
and  had  just  now  reached  the  Rotonda,  com- 
ing here,  as  >ou  see,  in  the  very  nick  of  time, 
and  reaching  the  spot  at  the  very  moment 
when  the  Countess  had  been  set  free,  and  Fred 
and  McGinty  were  staring  at  her  iu  dumb,  in- 
articulate amazement. 

Tlien  the  silence  was  broken. 

There  buist  forth  a  sharp,  simultaneous  out' 
cry  from  half  a  dozen  eager  voices. 

"Wiiere'a  Rosie?"  cried  Fred. 

"  Where's  Kitty  ?"  cried  McGinty. 

"  Where's  papa  ?"  cried  'Arriet. 

"Where's  my  daughter?"  cried  Sir  Eugene. 

And  no  "one  could  hear  what  any  one  else 
said.  As  for  the  Countess,  she  caught  only  one 
word  among  thenumerousquestions  thus  flung 
at  her. 

She  shook  her  head  wearily. 

"  De  Rosettina,"  said  she,  "eessafe.  'Ere  is 
de  Generale,"  and  she  pointed  to  the  Red 
Chief.  "  I  af  safe  'er.  I  am  ready  to  die  eef 
dey  want  it." 

And  as  the  lights  flashed  down— a  ruddy  glow 
illuruiuating   the  beautiful  face.    She  stood 


134 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


looking;  at  Fred,  and  there  was  in  her  eyes  the 
piilLosof  wounded  love,  mid  in  her  ftito  the 
sweetness  of  a  gentle  and  tender  melancholy 
which  heightened  her  lovelhiesa. 

The  Red  Chief  saw  it. 

Sir  Eugene  saw  it. 

Fi  ed  and  all  the  others  saw  it. 

Tku  papa  and  the  maiuiua  saw  il  from  their 
Blationa. 

Finally— Gary  saw  it. 

Gary  saw  it.  That  face,  thus  fully  revealed 
iu  the  glaring  light,  produced  upon  hini  iin 
effect  far  stronger  than  tliat  which  had  been 
wrought  on  any  of  the  otliera.  For  a  moiuent 
he  stared  lilie  one  suddenly  stniclc  dumb. 
Then  he  looked  wildly  around.  Tlien  lie  pulled 
the  broad  brim  of  hie  felt  hat  down  low 
over  his  face 

"  Tlie  devil!"  lie  muttered,  iu  a  hoarse  voloe; 
and  with  this  ejaculation  he  sudiltnly  darted 
back  into  the  midst  of  the  crowd,  and  took 
himself  off. 

And  now,  to  the  papa,  at  the  moment  when 
Ids  very  last  liope  had  fled,  when  instant  and 
inevitable  discovery  seemed  before  him,  this 
was  the  scene  that  was  suddenly  unfolded. 

Looking  up  from  his  seat,  he  saw  suddenly 
revealed,  in  the  very  midst  of  liis  despair,  all 
these  familiar  faces. 

He  saw  the  Gountess  on  one  side— tlie  right. 

Fred  on  the  other— the  left. 

Smithei's  standing  next  to  Fred. 

Kilty  standing  next  to  the  Countess. 

'Arriet  standing  next  to  Smithers. 

Behind  all  tliese,  in  the  midst  of  the  scene, 
he  saw  the  Red  Chief,  with  Sir  Eugene  on  his 
riglit,  and  Grassatoon  his  left. 

Behind  these  again, was  a  back  ground  of 
Red  Sliirls,  whose  agitated  faces,  rude  garb, 
and  lurid  torches,  formed  a  scene  of  indescrib- 
alile  wildness. 

This  is  what  the  papa's  eye  beheld.  For  a 
few  moments  he  wos  simply  stupefied.  Then 
he  started  to  his  feet. 

He  dashed  back  bis  hood. 

He  tore  off  his  baretta. 

He  flung  off  his  cloak. 

He  put  one  foot  forward,  spread  wide  his 
arms,  and  lifted  up  his  voice : 

"Hi!  hi!  Hooray!"  he  yelled.  "  "Ere  I  be. 
Obi  my  king  alive.    Oh!  yer Ladyship!    Oh! 


Mr.  Smithers!  Oli!  Miss  Kitty!  Oh!  Mr. 
Fotliirl)y!  Oli!  'Arriet,  me  child,  me  child! 
'Elp!  'ElpI  Speak  Hytclian  to  tlieso  'ere  hex- 
ecutioners!  Tell  'em  'oo  I  be.  'Elp!  'Elp! 
Tell  'em  I  am  W.  Patterson,  Esquire!" 

At  the  first  sound  of  his  voice  ail  eyes  bad 
turned  in  his  direction.  'Arriet  saw  hitu  then. 
She  recognized  the  author  of  her  being.  She» 
too,  spread  wide  her  arms. 

"  Pup— pa-a-a-a-a-a!"  shrieked  'Arriet,  and 
bounded  forward. 

Tlie  tones  of  that  familiar  voice  had  pene- 
trated to  the  soul  of  the  mamma.  She  saw  the 
face  of  her  lord.  She  understood  the  whole 
truth  ill  an  instant.  She  gave  a  long,  wild, 
slirill  yell.  She  started  back,  and  spread  wide 
her  arms. 

"  B  il— le-e-t-e-e-e-e ! " 

Saying  this,  she  rushed  forward  and  flung 
her  arms  around  the  papa,  just  as  'Arriet  also 
had  reached  the  spot,  and  was  embracing  her 
parient. 

"  Loo— wheezer!  Oh,  Loo— wlieezer!'"  cried 
the  papa,  and  burst  into  tears.  "Oh,  Loo — 
wheezer!    Oil, 'Arriet !" 

"  Oh,  Bil— li--e-e-i'-i'-e-e-e!" 

"  Oh,  Pup— pii-a-a-u-a-a^a!" 

And  the  papa,  the  mamma  and  'Arriet,  all 
stood  thus  weeping  tears  of  rapture,  while 
folded  sweetly  in  one  another's  arms. 

But  now  there  commenced  ageneral  tumult, 
and  the  Red  Shirts  came  rushing  In  from  all 
sides.  A  wild  rumor  had  in  an  instant  flashed 
through  the  assembly.  It  was  to  the  effect 
that  an  effort  was  being  made  to  rescue  the 
illustrious  prisoners— prol)ably  by  some  secret 
emissaries  in  the  pay  of  the  crafty  and  formi- 
dable Secretary  of  Stale,  the  most  inflexible, 
subtle  and  dangerous  of  all  the  enemies  of  the 
Republic;  and  the  muskets  rattled  and  banged 
on  the  pavement;  and  sonorous  Italian  oaths 
sounded  forth;  and  the  glare  of  torches  flashed 
balefuUy  in  the  air,  throwing  a  lurid  light  upon 
the  scene;  and  wild,  and  high,  and  long,  and 
loud  arose  the  tumult  and  the  din,  rolling  up- 
ward in  vast  and  hollow  reverberations,  all 
around  the  mighty  dome,  and  through  the 
circular  opening,  and  forth  into  the  night,  and 
upward  into  the  everlasting  skies,  where,  it  is 
to  be  presumed,  it  was  flnally  dissipated. 

At  leogtb,  by  dint  of  incessant  bawling,  tbo 


TEE  BABES  IN  THE  WOOD. 


135 


Red  Chief  sucoeeilod  in  making  liimsolf 
lienrd,  niid  in  reatorinj;  soniu  dcgren  of  quiet. 
Ht)  drove  luvolc  tlio  crowd,  nnd  tliiii  planted 
himself,  as  arm  as  tho  Rock  of  Gibraltar,  in 
front  of  the  piipa,  tho  niumma,  and  'Arriet, 
who  still  were  olinfiing  to  out)  anothi-r.  All 
the  Reds  formed  a  ring  around. 

To  them  it  was  a  singular  spootaele.  Tiie 
Prime  Minister,  the  Secretary,  and  a  young 
English  lady,  weeping  in  one  another's  arms! 

Puzzling  I 

"What  is  this,  and  who  are  you?"  asked  the 
Red  Chief,  in  a  hollow  voice,  in  which  tliere 
was  already  evident  something  of  the  ilismay, 
naturally  felt  by  one  who  is  making  himself 
ridiculous. 

"What  is  this,  and  who  are  you?"  he  re- 
peated. 

The  papn,  by  this  time,  had  succeeded  in 
freeing  himself  from  the  fond  eml)raee8  of  his 
wife  and  daughter.  Pie  looked  up,  and  then 
allaround,with  a  happy  face  and  beatific  smile. 

"Somebody'U  af  to  explain  and  answer  this 
gent,"  said  he.  "Lady  Carraway,"  lie  con- 
tinued, addressing  the  Countess,  "you  can 
Bpeal£  Hytalmn." 

Of  ail  that  company,  not  tho  least  amazed 
was  the  little  Countess;  but  she  came  forward, 
at  this  appeal,  and  translated  the  story  of  the 
papa  and  mnraraa  as  it  was  told  her,  for  the 
benefit  of  tho  Red  Chief  and  his  followers. 

The  effect  of  all  of  which  upon  those  present 
^as— well,  I  haren't  yet  been  able  to  think  of 
any  word  which  is  adequate  to  the  tasli  of  ex- 
pressing it.  The  faces  of  all  the  genial  Red 
Shirts  assumed  that  peculiar  expression  which 
is  generally  presented  by  one  who  feels  himself 
to  have  been  very  badly  sold.  As  for  the  Red 
Chief,  he  looked  first  interested;  then  sur- 
orised ;  then  grieved ;  then  heart-broken ;  then 
sick;  and  tlien  he  suddenly  recollected  a  most 
important  engagement  which  required  his  im- 
mediate attention.  (From  that  time  forth,  the 
Red  Chief  lost  much  of  that  confidence  in  him- 
self which  had  hitherto  distinguished  him.  He 
grew  melancholy;  and  who  knows  but  that 
the  short  duration  of  the  Roman  Republic 
may  have  been  largely  owing  to  the  ravages 
which  were  wrought  upon  the  Red  Chief's 
mind  by  the  adventures  of  the  papa?) 

So  tbe  Bed  Chief  went  off,  and  the  Red  Shirts 


felt  so  disgusted  with  the  whole  business,  that 
they  pretended  not  to  be  aware  of  tlie  exist- 
ence of  any  of  these  insignificant  pecple,  and 
under  tlie  di^iguise  of  talking  politics,  began 
to  edge  off— further  and  further— until  they  all 
crowded  together  at  the  opposite  side  of  tbe 
Rutonda. 


CHAPTER  LVII. 

FINAL     EXPLOSION. 

Wonders  join  to  wondorg  yot. 
Hither  comes  our  dear  Rosette. 

The  adventures  of  the  papa  and  the  mamma 
had  certainly  been  wonderful,  and  the  shock 
which  had  been  administered  to  all  present  by 
the  discovery  of  tlie  truth  had  buvu  undoubt- 
edly one  of  the  strongest  conceivable,  yet, 
nevertlieless,  there  were  several  present  who 
had  other  thoughts  ill  their  mindsof  more  en- 
grossing interest.  Tlie  adventures  of  the 
papa  and  mamma  were  by  no  means  sufficient 
to  drive  away  these  thoughts,  or  reduce  them 
to  calmness.  On  the  contrary,  their  excite- 
ment, far  from  .diminishing,  only  grew 
stronger. 

There  were  several  sets  of  people  here  who 
had  still  a  great  question  to  ask,— tbe  answer 
to  which  was  of  supremo  importance. 

Where  is  Rosette? 

That  was  the  question. 

McGinty  now  saw  Kitty  for  the  first  time, 
and  recognized  his  mistake.  He  bounded 
towards  her. 

Grassato  saw  'Arriet,  and  flew  to  her  side. 

The  Countess  drew  nearer  to  Fred,  and  fixed 
her  eyes  on  him  with  an  imploring  \oo\i.. 

But  Fred  turned  away.  He  had  no  eyes  for 
the  Countess,  no  thoughts  or  regards  for  any 
one.  He  rushed  towards  Sir  Eugene,  and 
grasped  both  his  hands.  There  were  no  words 
of  greeting  between  them.  Each  was  too 
anxious.  They  both  spoke  simultaneously, 
and  naked  one  another  in  tremulous  voioes 
these  same  words: 

"Have  you  heard  anything  about  Rosette?" 

"Have  you  beard  anything  about  my 
daughter?" 

Each  asked  the  question. 

Neither  could  give  an  answer. 


136 


THE  BABES  IN  TEE  WOOD. 


Butoach  read  an  nnswur  in  tliu  fauu  of  tli(> 
other.  Then  thoy  both  shrank  back  with  up- 
raised bandr*  and  averted  faces. 

Fred  clasped  liis  liauds  and  cried : 

«'0h,  Rosiel    llosiel" 

Sir  Eugene  hid  his  face  in  his  hands  and 
grcmned  aloud ; 

"Oh.  Rosette!    Rosette!" 

^)  *  *  *  * 

Suddenly  n  little  tap  on  IiIa  shoulder  roused 
him— a  light,  careless  laugli,  and  a  well-known 
voice: 

"  Why  papa,  dear  I  What  made  you  leave  the 
Embassy  when  you  might  liave  known  I  was 
coming!    I've " 

Sir  Eugene  whirled  around. 

Fred  did  the  same. 

Each  one  stoggered  back  exactly  six  paces. 

For  a  moment  they  stood  motionless— and 
then — then— then,  oil  my  Ileavens!  witti  a  wild 
ha!  ha!— with  glaring  eyes,  and  with  ouf- 
Btretched  arms,  they  both  made  a  rush  at  little 
Rosette! 

«  «  41  «  * 


CHAPTER  LVIII. 

THE     STRAWDBHHY. 

After  being  sore  affrighted, 
Two  fond  hearts  are  reunited. 

As  the  row  subsided,  MeGinly  ruslied  to- 
ward Kitty.  Suddenly,  however,  and  in  the 
midst  of  his  cry,  and  his  rush,  he  recollected 
the  painful  fact  that  he  had  no  right  to  make 
such  a  demonstration,  for  he  was  not  McGinty, 
but  "Smithers."  80  the  poor  fellow  had  to 
stop  half  way;  and  there  he  stood,  looking  at 
Kitty  with  a  face  sad  enough  to  melt  a  stone. 

"Why,  Mr.  Smithers,  you  seem  quite  broken 
hearted  at  seeing  me,"  said  Kitty;  "and  I 
thought  you  would  feel  so  awfully  glad." 

McGinty  gave  a  gulp  down  in  his  throat, 
and  grasped  her  hand  in  both  of  bis. 

And  then  he  stood  holding  her  hand  for  a 
long  time,  with  his  brain  in  a  whirl,  and  his 
heart  perplexed  with  joy  and  despair.  Kitty 
was  kind,  and  allowed  him  to  hold  her  band, 
since  he  made  such  a  point  of  it ;  nnd  this  per- 
plexed McGinty  still  more,  for  it  lookad  like  a 


favor  shown  to  Smithers,  and,  of  course,  af- 
forded a  fresh  reasion  for  not  telling  the  truth. 

Kilty  soon  jnoposed  that  tliey  should  go 
away.  They  departed,  and  McGinty  offered 
•lis  arm.  She  took  it,  and  they  walked  on  in 
silence  through  the  dimly-lighted  streets. 

"Is  there  not  something  the  matter  with 
your  arm?"  asked  Kitty,  at  last,  in  a  very  shy 
voice. 

"My  arm?"  said  McGinty. 

"Yes,"  said  Kitty,  in  the  same  shy  tone. 
"  Isn't  tliere  a  mark  of  some  kind  on  it?" 

"  A  mark  ?    What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"In  other  words,"  said  Kitty,  "haveyoua 
strawberry  mark  on  your  arm? ' 

"  A  strawberry  mark !"  exclaimed  McGinty. 
An  awful  thought  came  to  him.  Kitty  was 
mad.  The  trials  of  tiio  past  few  days  had  been 
loo  muoh.  He  stood  still,  and  Kitty  stood 
facing  liim,  and  looking  up  at  him. 

"  A  strawbei  ry  mark,"  said  MeGiuty,  in  a 
mournful  voice.    "No— oh,  no!" 

"  1  thought  not,"  said  Kitty,  with  a  sigh. 

"But  why  did  you  ask?"  said  McGinty, 
anxiously. 

"  Because  I  felt  convinced,"  said  Kitty, 
"  that " 

"That  what?" 

"  Why,  that  you  are— you  are— my  own  dear, 
darliug,  stupid  old  McGinty!"  cried  Kitty; 
and  slie  flung  herself  in  his  arms. 

McGinty  was  overwhelmed.  He  could  not 
speak.  Ho  held  her  clasped  tight  in  his  em- 
brace, and  trembled  from  head  to  foot.  It  was 
tt  long  time  before  he  was  capable  of  framing 
a  single  coherent  sentence,  or  of  moving  from 
the  spot. 

"  Why,  how  did  you  find  out?"  he  gasped,  at 
last. 

"  Oh,  who  but  such  an  Irishman  as  you 
would  ever  have  thought  of  such  a,  thing?' 
said  Kitty;  "or  played  such  a  ridiculous  game 
with  a  loving  little  girl?  Wiiy,  sir,  when  you 
wrote  to  me  about  Smithers,  I  suspected 
something,  and  when  you  cnme,  I  knew  you 
at  once.  You  were  not  changed  at  all.  It 
was  only  because  you  were  so  conceited,  my 
dear  old  darling,  about  your  former  Apollo- 
like beauty,  and  thought  that  a  half  dozen 
spots  had  ruined  it.  And  besides,  you  forgot 
'  all  about  your  voice.    So  I  let  you  keep  it  up, 


an 
tal 
pr 
be 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


137 


aud  every  day  I  wouderod  wliou  you  would 
tiike  me  to  your  lieurt  again.  And  oh,  what  a 
prcoiouii  old  gooae  my  (Inar  old  darllug  lius 
been  making  of  himsblf  all  tlils  tiiuul" 


Kitty, 


CHAPTER    LIX. 

BHTLOCK  ANB  THE  POUNl)  OP  FLESH. 

fred  is  held  to  bis  agrooment, 

Now  tlie  Countesa  uhowa  wbut  she  moaut. 

So,  after  all,  tlie  Countess  liad  lieen  able  to 
keep  her  word,  aud  to  free  Rosette  from  lier 
impending  doom.  For  her  message  luid  been 
brought  to  ttie  Red  Cliief,  and  tills  personage, 
full  of  concern  at  the  luistake  which  had  iieuu 
made,  at  once  freed  Rosette  and  sent  her  to  the 
British  Emhassy.  Not  finding  her  papa  here. 
Rosette  liad  insisted  on  being  taken  to  liim, 
wherever  he  might  be;  and  this  accounts  for 
her  appearance  at  tlie  Rotonda.  She  liad 
come  like  the  others,  just  in  the  nick  of  time. 

Of  her  release, the  Countess  liad  known  noth- 
ing, until  the  moment  when  sheappeaied  there. 
As  for  the  Countess  herself,  in  spite  of  the 
grave  charges  against  her,  she  was  set  free  not 
long  after. 

The  release  of  the  Countess  was  owing  to 
several  things. 

First,  to  the  disgust  of  the  Red  Chief  and  the 
Red  Shirts  at  the  whole  business;  and  this  dis- 
gust was  so  strong  that  they  did  not  wish  to 
hear  ever  again  even  the  mention  of  the  name 
of  the  Countess,— or  of  Their  Exalted  Excel- 
lencies, tlie  Prime  Minister  aud  the  Secretary 
of  State.  As  these  last  two  potentates  had 
slipped  througli  their  Angers,  they  concluded 
to  let  the  Countess  go  also. 

Secondly,  to  the  solicitations  of  Sir  Eugene 
Merivale,  who  felt  deeply  grateful  lo  her  for 
her  voluntary  surrender  of  herself  when  she 
might  have  escaped. 

And, thirdly,  to  the  several  efforts  of  Cary. 
This  personage  exerted  himself  witli  a  vehe- 
mence that  was  astonishing,  and  puzzled  tlie 
leaders  of  the  Reds,  who  could  not  account  for 
it.  It  rras  Ca-y  to  whom  the  life  of  the  Count- 
ess was  chiefly  due. 

Now,  on  regaining  her  liberty,the  first  thing 
that  the  little  Countess  did  was  to  remind  Fred 
of  aoertain  promise  which  he  had  made  to  her, 


coudilioual  upon  the  saving  of  Rosette.  So, 
Rosette  being  safe,  the  Countess,  with  the 
frankuess  that  was  oharacteristio  of  ber, 
claimed  from  Fred  the  fultllment  of  that  little 
I>romise. 

This  promise  Fred  had,  at  first,  persistently 
refused  to  think  of.  lie  had  given  himself  up 
to  tlie  joy  of  ri^union  with  Rosette,  and  had 
l)een  allowing  himself  to  indulge  in  this  joy  to 
the  lop  of  his  bent.  Suddenly,  in  the  midst  of 
all  this,  there  came  the  gentle  reminder  of  the 
Countess  about  that  unfortunate  promise.  It 
was  a  startling  blow,  and  her  mild  yet  firm 
persistence,  was  something  which  he  could  not 
()I)p08e.  He  could  find  no  words  with  which  to 
answer  her.  For  he  had  certainly  offered  to 
marry  her  if  she  should  save  Rosette.  And 
Rosette  had  cei'tainly  been  saved,  and  by  her. 
Vloreover,  the  little  Countess  had  undoubted- 
ly performed  an  act  of  tlie  highest  danger  and 
daring,  and  had  actually  risked  her  life  to  save 
Hosette.  Aud  all  tliis,the  little  Countess  took 
good  care  to  make  known  to  Fred.  How  then 
could  he  avoid  fulfilling  that  promise  which  he 
had  not  only  made  to  her,  but  confirmed  l)y  an 
oath. 

Nevertheless,  be  mada  all  the  fight  he  could, 
and  used  every  argument  he  could  think  of  to 
shake  the  ri!Solve  of  the  Countess. 

First  he  swore  that  he  was  not  worth  a  penny 
in  the  world.  But  this,  the  Countess  remarked, 
was  nothing,  for  she  would  be  willing— nay, 
glad  to  bear  poverty  with  him.  What,  she 
asked,  was  wealth  without  love;  and  when 
there  is  a  union  of  two  loving  hearts  what  pos- 
sible need  is  there  of  wealth? 

What  indeed  ? 

Secondly,  Fred  argued  that  his  education 
was  not  complete.  Ho  had  to  study  a  profes- 
sion, be  said;  to  travel,  to  grow  wiser,  older, 
better,  and  so  on. 

But, to  this,  the  Countess  answered  that  it  was 
not  good  for  him  to  be  alone,  and  that  alt 
these  things  could  l)e  accomplished  in  a  far 
more  effectual  way,  if  he  had  her  with  him. 

Thirdly,  Fred  brought  forward  the  argu- 
ment from  religion.  He  was  a  Protestant,  he 
said,  while  she  was  a  Catholic,  and  he  feared 
they  could  not  be  married.  Besides,  differ- 
ences of  faith  might  lead  to  future  unbappi- 
ness.    But  this  argument  was  at  once  met  by 


188 


TUE  BABES  IN  THE    WOOL. 


h 


an  offuroii  tlio  pint  of  (liuCuiititfsa,  to  buinnr- 
ried  by  ttiu  Clinpluhi  ut  tliu  Orltl^li  EmbosDy, 
niid  go  witli  liltn  (o  vliuroli  as  oftou  as  ho 
nidUed  It. 

Aftor  this  Frml  \iavvi  It  up. 

Ue  vnx»  111  iU)!<piiir. 

And  bow  t'ould  bobruaktlionowDtoRoselte? 

He  could  not. 

But  Rosette  lienrd  all  about  it,  of  oourt<i',  mid 
Rooii  enouKli,  too. 

She  met  Lira  with  the  luoBt  vebumuut  re- 
proaches. 

"Iain  sure,"  siild  sho,  "I  tliinli  it's  a  very 
great  shame  Indeed— mid  it's  very  deceitful  in 
the  Countess.  As  to  her  pretence  nl)out  sav- 
ing me,  it's  really  too  silly.  I  should  like  to 
know  how  one  can  be  saved  when  one  isn't  in 
the  slightest  danger.  Those  good  Judges,  and 
those  nice  policemen,  and  the  i>eople  lured, 
were  all  just  as  kind  to  me  as  they  ever  could 
be.  They  did  all  they  could.  They  sent  for 
papa,  and  then  took  me  to  him.  I  never  was 
treated  so  politely  in  all  my  life.  But  as  for 
you.  Master  Fred,  I'm  really  ashamed  of 
you!" 

"  Oh !  Ro!«ie,"  said  Fred,  dolefully,  "  don't  be 
80  oross.  You're  worth  ten  thousand  such 
people  las  the  Countess.  I  sliould  like  her  to 
go  away  somewhere,  and  never  see  her  face 
again." 

"Then,  what  makes  you  go  and  marry  her," 
said  Rosette.  "How  would  you  like  me  to  %o 
and  marry  some  one — Mr.  Smithers,  for  in- 
stance, though  his  name  is  MoGinty  now,  or 
that  nice,  kind,  red  Captain  Casabiaiion?" 

"  What?  Who's  be?"  asked  Fred,  hastily, 
with  a  dark  look  of  suspicion. 

"  Why,  that  iiicse,  gentlemanly  offlcer  that 
took  me  to  the  ISmbussy,  "^nd  to  the  Rotonda, 
and  was  so  kind." 

"What!"  cried  Fred,  with  a  frown;  "that 
miserable,  cadaverous  little  beggar." 

"He's  not,"  said  Rosette,  quickly.  "He 
isn't  anything  of  the  kind.  He's  a  very  nice 
man.  He's  very  kind  and  very  pleasant,  and 
I  don't  know  but  that  I  may  grow  qiiife  fond 
of  him  yet,  if— if  he  behaves  himself." 

"Pooh!"  said  Fred,  "he's  a  poor  beggar. 
"  You  couldn't  think  anything  of  him." 

"  Yes  I  could,"  said  Rosette ;  "  and  I've  a 
great  mind  to  marry  bim— so  there." 


"Marry  him!"  ozciuimed  Fred,  angrily. 
"You  shall  not!" 

"I  will,"  said  Rosette;  "that  Is,  if  you  go 
and  marry  her.  I've  as  iniicli  right  to  go  and 
get  married  as  you  have.  So  there,  now.  And 
1  think  it's  a  very  creiit  shame,  indeed;  and  I 
think  that  Countess  is  a  nasty,  naaty,bor- 
rid " 

Here  Rosette  burst  into  tears.  Fred  rushed 
wildly  toward  her  to  sootlie  her;  but  she  tore 
herself  away  from  bim,  and  ran  out  of  the 
room. 

Fred  made  such  a  row,  that  everybody 
knew  all  about  bis  affairs,  and  all  expressed 
llieir  (pinions  quite  freely. 

Sir  Eugene  talked  with  Fred  in  a  paternal 
tone.  His  theory  was,  that  Fred  might  manage 
to  get  out  of  it  someliow,  and  that  in  any  case 
lie  had  better  postpone  it  fo"  the  present. 

"  Well,"  said  Fred,  "you  see  I  can't  help  it. 
I've  given  my  word;  so  what's  a  fellow  to  do?" 

"Well;  but  you  didn't  know  that  woman's 
character.  Why,  my  boy,  to  marry  her  would 
be  ruin  and  destruction.  Wliy,  I  can  tell  you 
all  about  her.  She's  been  one  of  the  very 
worst  of  the  emissaries  of  the  Police — a  hired 
spy— a  miseral)le  informer.  Her  chief  field 
has  been  among  the  English,  and  her  chief 
business  to  betray  her  own  friends  and  ac- 
quaintances. I  found  out  every  thing  from 
Grassato  and  others.  She  was  the  one  that 
denounced  me.  She  denounced  Rosette  and 
the  old  man- by  Jove  there's  no  end  to  that 
little  devil's  arts.  To  talk  of  keeping  faith 
with  that  womatij  is  nonsense.  1  don't  mind 
what  she  has  done  against  me.  I  consider  she 
has  atoned  for  that  by  giving  herself  up  and 
saving  Rosette— apart  from  politics  I  rather 
like  her ;  but  facts  are  facts,  and  in  a  case  like 
this,  you  must  know  the  truth,  so  1  tell  you 
she's  not  a  fit  person  to  marry." 

Fred  sighed. 

"I'm  very  sorry,"  said  he,  "but  I  don't  see 
how  I  can  go  back.  There's  my  word  -and  my 
oath,  too,  on  top  of  it;  so  what  can  I  do?" 

At  this  Sir  Eugene  lost  patience,  and  in- 
dulged in  a  little  profanity. 

Finding  the  nselesaness  of  any  further  argu- 
ment with  Fred,  Sir  Eugene  sought  out  Cary, 
with  whom  be  bad  a  long  talk.  Gary  bad 
already  enlightened  bim  about  many  tbings. 


THE  BABES  IN  TUE  WOOD. 


130 


ingrily. 

you  Ro 
go  and 
w.  And 
nnd  I 
ily,hor- 


for  Ciiry  bod  tioon  duop  In  the  secrots  of  tlio 
Rupubllcaus;  while  HlrEuKt'iiuliud  lieun  only 
thu  mildest  kind  of  iiyiiiimihlzei-,  iinU  Imd 
never  ri'ully  been  worth  tlio  iiotioo  of  the  I'o- 
Uue.  Fur  tbla  retuon,  (Jury  wiia  ul>lu  to  );ive 
liiiu  luudli  Inrornmllon,  and  hud  told  hiiu  wliut 
he  hud  iilreudy  (loiniuunlcatod  to  Fred.  An- 
other Interview  with  Cary  fortified  Sir  EuK<'ne 
for  a  flnul  attack  upon  the  Couutests.  If  lit- 
oould  otdy  Induo  aer  to  desist,  be  thought  he 
might  save  Fred  In  that  way  from  what  hu  h\i- 
lleved  to  be  "ruin  and  (le^t ruction." 

So  ho  went  to  sue  the  Countess. 

And  the  sum  and  substance  of  Ids  vUM  was 
this— that  while  lie  (Sir  Eugene)  was  grateful 
for  what  she  had  dono  in  belialf  of  llo.xelte, 
still  the  Interest  which  he  felt  in  Mr.  Fotlicrljy, 
whom  hu  loved  as  a  son,  made  him  anxious  to 
have  her  release  that  gentleman  from  his  pro- 
mise; and  that  therefore  he  liad  come  to  re- 
quest this,  with  the  assurance,  also,  which  hu 
was  sorry  to  malte,  that  if  she  did  not  give 
this  release  voluntarily,  she  sliould  be  com- 
pelled to  do  so. 

To  all  of  this  the  Countess  listened  with  un- 
ruffled culm,  and  flnully  said,  in  answer  to  the 
last  statement: 

"Such  as  'ow,  Signor?" 

And  saying  this,  she  loolied  fixedly  at  Sir 
Eugene. 

"  The  complete  knowledgo,"  said  Sir  Eugene, 
"  which  I  huve  of  your  past,  enal)le3  inu  to 
speak  with  confldenee.  If  I  were  to  make 
known  that  past  you  would  bo  compelled  to 
give  up  the  young  man.  I  will  do  »o,  if  you 
force  me.    This  is  no  Idle  tineat!" 

At  this,  which  Sir  Eugene  supposed  would  be 
very  formidable,  the  Countess  shrugged  her 
shoulders,  and  gave  a  smile. 

"You  arra  welcome  to  my  pasta,"  said  she, 
In  a  voice  of  indifference,  and  with  perfect 
self-poasesision.  "  By  my  pasta  you  mean  my 
counezione  wit  ze  goveruomento.  Alia  dat 
refer  to  you  I  can  say.  Primo— de  Informa- 
zlone  about  you.  Eet  was  alia  meestnke — I  dlt 
eet  from  de  zeal.  Also  Secundo— de  Informa- 
zlone  against  Bosettina.  Dat  was  de  jealousy— 
to  'af  'er  away  from  Signor  Poduirliy.  Dat 
ees  alia  my  crime— I  'af  atone  to  Rosettiua— 
I  not  astiame.    Eeoola ! " 

"Then  you  positively  refuse  to  comply?" 


Ttie  Countess  again  shrugged  her  shoulden. 

Upon  this  Sir  Euge  o  left  tier  in  despair,  and 
returned  to  take  counsel  with  Cury.  The  two 
liad  a  lung  consultation— lung,  earnest  and 
profound.  Was  it  possible,  then,  to  ),dt  thu 
better  of  tlie  little  Countess- to  triumph  over 
u  woinun  of  such  pluck und  resources? 

"She's a  woman  ot  genius,"  suld  Cury.  "  I 
had  nlver  nn  Idaya  of  (lie  inflniteu  of  re- 
sources—tlje  pluck,  tlio  wit,  tliesubtloty,an'  the 
Invlntlveness  that  luy  concayled  under  her 
gentluan'ouasshuinlngdemayniour.  Sure  an' 
I  wish  I'd  ony  knowed  her  better— it  would 
liavo  been  better  for  her  an'  for  me." 

Sir  Eugene  listened  to  this  llttiu  outburst 
without  surprise.  IIu  had  Ijecome  accustomed 
toil.  Cary'seutluislasmaliout  the  Countess  had 
been  increasing  and  growing  more  und  more 
ever  sinoe  the  affair  at  the  Rotonda.  He  now 
watched  lier  dealings  with  Fred  and  Fred's 
friends  with  a  deliglit,  a  steadfastness,  and  a 
zest  that  was  wonderful  to  wltnoKS. 

For  that  motter,  all  were  watching  the  affair 
with  the  deepest  interest,  and  waiting  for  the 
denouement. 

The  mamma  was  very  severe  upon  Fred. 
She  heard,  with  unconcealed  joy,  that  he  was 
being  dragged  into  the  marriage  ugulast  his 
will.  'Arrlet  listened  grimly,  but  said  nothing. 
Slie  hud  her  own  thoughts  about  the  matter, 
l>ut  she  was  too  proud  to  utter  tbem,  and, 
thererore,she  kept  them  all  to  lierself. 

"Sarve'im  right!"  said  the  mnmma.  "'E 
was  alius  a  flirt — a  male  coquette — and  that  I 
hever  do  desplje.  And  us  for  you,  'Arrlet— 
you  ain't  got  no  reason  to  feel  disnppointed— 
not  a  mite.  There's  better  flsh  in  the  sea  than 
that  one — an'  better  men  than  Mr.  Fotherl)y 
a-goln'.  You  can  be  a  Countess  any  day,  an' 
that's  better  llian  plain  Mrs.  Fotherby." 

At  which  'Arrlet  looked  sweetly  conscious, 
but  said  notliing. 

And  what  about  little  Rosette? 

Our  poor  little  girl  at  length  seemed  to  grow 
more  resigned. 

"I  win  go,"  slie  said,  "to  the  wedding,  and  I 
will  stand  opposite  to  Freddie,— and  I  will 
keep  my  eyes  fixed  on  him,— and  I'll  stand 
where  be  will  see  me ;  and  then  I  shall  8ee,if  he 
will  have  the  face  to  go  and  get  married  to  that 
old  Countess  under  my  very  eyes ;  and  if  he 


140 


THE  BABES  IN  THE  WOOD. 


does— niul   liero   lier   voloo    grew  ])laintivt — 
why  tlu'ii— I'm  sure  I  dou't  know  what  1  Hliall 
ever  dol" 
And  80  the  wedding  day  at  last  arrived. 


CHAPTER  LX. 

THE    W  K  Yt  1)  I  N  <1     I>  A  Y  . 

lla!  wlint  maki>9  yon  couplo  fiiltor, 
Ah  thoy  kuot'l  boforo  tlio  altary 

And  so  the  eventful  day  at  hist  arrived. 

All  were  tliere. 

The  papa  and  tlie  luamina. 
Arriet  wi(h  Grasaato. 

Kitty  witli  MeCtinty. 

Sir  Eugene  with  Rosette. 

Fred  eaine  and  gave  one  look  around.  His 
eyes  fell  upon  Rosette.  She  had  been  true  to 
her  word,  and  had  plaeed  lierself  In  sueh  a  po- 
sition, that  he  eould  not  help  seeinjx  her.  Never 
had  (lu»  expression  of  that  sweet  faee  been  8o 
touehlng.  Her  large,  dark  eyes  were  llxed 
upon  liiin  with  a  nielanoholy  reproaeh,  whieh 
pierced  him  to  the  heart.  One  glatu'o  was 
enough.  Ho  did  not  dare  to  loo!c  at  her  again, 
but  Icept  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  lloor. 

The  Countess  came  in  duo  time,  looking 
radiant  and  happy. 

Then  the  elergynian  eamo  forward. 

The  service  l)egau : 

"Dearly  beloved,"  etc. 

At  length  tht^  elergynir"^  ennjo  to  the  words: 

"  I  require  and  charge  you  botli "  etc. 

As  he  said  these  words,  f  liere  entei-ed  a  gen- 
tleman, wlio  eanu)  up  and  stood  b(>hind  the 
couple  at  tlie  altar.  This  couple,  like  all  cou- 
ples in  similar  circuinstanees,  were  so  com- 
pletely absorbed,  that  they  noticed  notliiug, 
and  only  lieard  tlie  words  of  the  service  in  a 
vague  and  dreamy  way. 

The  clergyman  went  on: 

"That  if  either  of  you  know  any  impedi- 
ment wliy  ye  may  not  l)e  joined  together  in 
matrimony,  ye  do  now  confess  it." 

Upon  this,  tlie  new-(H)mer  moved  to  tlie  left, 
.snd  coming  forward,  stood  on  the  left  of  the 
Countess  before  the  clergyman. 

"Ifc7'c'«  ofi  imiKiUmcnt !"  said  ho. 

The  Countess  had  been  absorbed  in  atten- 
tion to  tho  ceremony.  So  had  Fred.  At  this 
unparalleled  Interruptiou,  both  started  and 


raised  their  lieads  as  they  knelt.  Tho  clergy- 
man looked  thiindeistruck.  All  present  were 
e(pially  affected.  Sir  Eugene  only  looked  un- 
disturbed. 

"Wlio— who— are  you?"  stammered  the  cler- 
gyman. 

"Timoliiy  rary!"said  the  new-comer;  "and 
I  forbid  this  nuirriiige." 

At  this  the  Ci)uutess  bouiuled  to  her  feet,  and 
surveyed  the  spiaker  with  a  wild  stare. 

Cary  was  greatly  changed.  He  had  shaved 
all  Ills  beaiil  off  i^lcan— his  hair  had  been  close 
cropped.  He  was  dressed  in  black  broadclotli, 
and  looked  snuiotii,aud  sleek,  and  oily,  ami 
quiet,  and  unelious;  not  at  all  like  Cary,  the 
friend  of  thv  Ueds,  but  rather  like  some 
nunichard,  some  emissary  or  agent  of  tlui 
police;  or,  still  more  like  the  confidential 
secretary  or  chamberlain  to  some  government 
oflleial. 

As  the  Countess  saw  him,  a  change  came  over 
her.  Her  faee  grew  livid,  her  limbs  rigid;  sho 
made  a  gesture  of  horror,  and  staggered  back. 

"Holy  Mother!"  she  exclaimed.  "Hlessed 
Virgin!  Sure  it's  a  ghost,  so  it  is,  an' niver  a 
living  man!  t)h,  but  it's  meselt  that's  the  lost 
woman  entirely,  tliis  day!" 

Willi  tliese  words  she  sank  back,  and  would 
have  fallen  had  not  Caiy  himself  caught  liei\ 
But  she  tore  herself  free,  aiul  then  and  there, 
sat  on  the  floor,  wringing  her  hands  and  rock- 
ing herself  to  and  fro. 

All  present  gathered  round,  staring  in  wild 
aninzement  at  tills  extraordinary  scene.  Sir 
Eugene  alone  retained  his  composure. 

Cary  now  interposed  as  soon  as  !!t>  could  get 
any  chance  of  nuiking  himself  lieard. 

"Nora,  darlin'!"  said  he,  "sure  an'  yo 
wouldn't  be  afti'r  beiu'  a  bigamist,  and  marry- 
in' auotlier  mati  under  the  very  nose  of  your 
husband." 

At  this  the  Countess  gave  him  another  look. 

"It  isn't  yerself,"  said  she,  speaking  with  a 
strong  Ii-isli  accent,  and  forgetting  altogether 
the  Haliau  intonations,  which  she  had  so  long 
and  so  carefully  kept  up. 

"Meself  it  is,"  said  Cary. 

"Sure  an'  didn't  I  bury  ye— with  me  own 
liands,  loo?"  said  the  Countess.  "I  did  thin; 
an'  I  have  witnesses  that  can  prove  that  ye're 
dead,  so  I  have." 


THE  BABES  IN  THE   WOOD. 


141 


"  'Di'od  thlu,  an'  they'll  have  mighty  hard 
work  to  ilo  that  same,  when  I  can  bring  wlt- 
uusses  to  provo  that  I'm  alive,"  said  Cary. 

"It  isn't  yerself,"  saiil  the  Counter;  "yer 
some  other  iniin.  Il':*  a  »eliamo  tu  delude  ine. 
I  buried  ye,  an'  ye'ie  dead." 

"It  wasn't  nie  ye  buried,"  said  Cary,  "sure, 
1  forwariled  yi!  tiiat  eoipse,  an' so  it  eouldn'l 
hare  l)een  lue.  You  see,  1  oouldn'l  rival  Mala- 
grida  alive,  and  so  I  lliouglit  wheilier  my  ilead 
corpse  mightn't  hnvea  better  <'lianee." 

"Malagrlda!"  exelaimed  the  ('ounttss,  look- 
ing at  liim  «  illi  a  very  eurious  expression.  J 

"Aye,"  said  Cary,  severely;  "  Miiliigrida." 

"  Sure,  thin,  an'  it  wasn't  Malugrida  at  all, 
at  all." 

"Not  Malagrida?"  eried  Cary. 

''No,''  said  tlie  Couutuss;  "  and  there  never 
was  a  Malagrida." 

"But  who  was  he?" 

"There  wasn't  any  7it'." 

"You  were  a  widow." 

"No,  1  never  was  a  widow;  I  was  a  spinster." 

At  this  Viwy  stared  in  amiizetnonl. 

"Theeomii!'  hi^gasi)ed.  "What  was  in  that?" 

"Thoeoflln?"  repeated  the  Countess.  "  Why, 
the'e  were  silks  in  it,  and  laees,  and  velvets, 
and  jDolry.  i  took  theiu  iisto  England  that 
Way  *o  avoid  the  jooty." 

Cary  stared  more  wildly  than  ever. 

"  But  why  didn't  yo  tell  me  the  truth  ?" 

"  Sure  an'  ye  never  wore  a  man  to  be  trusted 
—and  how  did  I  Itnow  that  ye'd  havu  themor'l 
courage  to  run  the  risk?' 

"An'  it  wasn't  for  Malagrida,  tlien,  that  you 
treated  tue  with  such  oonehumely,"  said  Cary ; 
"and  it  wasn't  for  him  that  I  fairly  broke  my 
heart  over  the  Alps;  and  it  wiisu't  for  liiiu  that 
Vou  deserted  mo " 

"Arrah  Timsey,"  said  the  Countess,  "ye 
ought  to  know  that  there  never  was  a  Tiinsi-y 
anywiiere  tluit  I'd  have  deserted  ye  for.  It 
was  for  tlie  box,  nie  whole  fortune.  It  wiis 
that>— an'  I  ilaren't  trust  ye  w  id  llu'  secret ;  an' 
didn't  I  think  that  ye'd  be  coming  after  mo— 
till  I  got  the  coffin ;  an'  then  I  thought  the  re- 
mains wero  yours,  and  I  buried  them,  and  had 
masses  said  over  them " 

Here  the  Countess  paused.  Gary  paused 
also.  He  had  much  to  ask,  hut  this  was  not 
tb(<  place.    So  be  led  the  Couut/jss  away,  and 


us  she  turned  to  leave  the  chapel,  the  shadow 
of  her  presence  rolled  awny  from  Fred's  de- 
si)airing  heart. 

Thehusband  and  wife  thus  strangely  reunited 
had  nnich  to  say  to  one  another,  iind  many  ex- 
planations to  intiUe.  Cnry  was  saiislled,  and 
before  the  end  of  tlmday  he  saiil  to  Mrs.  C. : 

"Sure,  an'  I  admire  more  'than  ever  yer 
pluck,  ingenuity,  nhrewdness,  cleverness,  beau- 
ty and  wit.  That  you  tried  to  get  a  husband 
(ion'l  fret  WW  a  liit,  since  you  tliought  you  were 
a  widow ;  and  besides,  there's  an  offset  to  that 
in  t!.e  fiiet  that  thert>  never  was  a  Malagrida. 
A  \vomnn  like  yon,  is  just  the  wife  for  a  man 
like  me.  We  can  plot  together,  being  both  of 
us  born  c(msplrators.  The  Il(>pnl>lio  can't  last 
Iinig.  We'll  make  a  eompr(nnise,  and  plot  for 
a  fulnre  kingdom  of  Italy, aftei'  tliceonsteecu- 
tionaltype.  Bcin'a  monarohy,  it '11  satisfy  your 
procliveelees,  while  bein'  u  free  statt>,  it'll  sat- 
isfy niiiu'.  An' sure  to  glory!  but  the  tlme'll 
come  whin  ye'll  be  overwhelmed  with  grati- 
(^liude  to  me  for  saving  ye  from  such  a  popin- 
jay as  that  Fotherby  1  vSo  cotne  to  me  arrums, 
jool— ye'll  cease  to  l)o  Carrara,  but  to  me  ye'll 
be  Cara!  and  to  the  wurruld  ye'll  bo  Cary." 


CHAPTER  LXI. 

OUT  OP  THE  WOOn— WELL— ALL  HIOHT. 

Ah,  at  last  tlio  troublo  's  over. 
Uosio  now  has  got  hor  loTor. 

The  Countess  tni'iied  away,  and  the  shadow 
of  her  pn'senee  rolled  off  from  Fred's  despair- 
ing heart.  Ho  sprang  toward  Rosette,  and 
seized  her  liand. 

"Oh,  Rosic!"  ho  cried;  "oh,  Rosiel  Rosle!" 
and  then  went  on  at  a  mad  rate,  (jnlte  regard- 
Uss  of  the  company  around,  behaving  alto- 
gether in  a  most  ahxurd,  and  impmiwr,  and 
siUy  way,  so  that  'Arrlet  and  the  mamma  ex- 
changtul  smiles  of  scorn. 

"  It's  turned  out  so  nice,"  said  Ro8t<tte,  ns  she 
walked  bonu<  with  Fred.  "  And  do  you  know, 
Freddie,  I  thought  all  the  time  that  something 
would  happen.  Something  always  does  hap- 
petL  I've  l)een  in  ever  so  many  funny  situa- 
tions, and  everything  goes  on  just  like  they  do 
In  the  fairy  stories— ond  I  was  Iniagiiilng  to 
myself  nil  the  tlmo,  that  some  fairy  would 
oome  up  and  drive  that  horrid  Countesa  away; 


142 


TEE  BABES  JN  THE  WOOD. 


only,  of  course,"  she  added,  in  aconacientious 
II  !  tone,  "I  don't  believe  in  fairies  at  all— but, 

then,  you  know    Freddie,  one  cannot  lielp 
one's  fancies." 

"Well,  then,  I  believe  in  fairies,"  said  Fred; 
"and  I  know  who's  the  dearest  little  fairy  in 
all  the  world." 

"Who?"  nsked  Rosette,  in  a  shy  whisper. 
•   "Little  Rosette,"  said  Fred. 

«« What  fun ! "  said  little  Rosette. 


CHAPTER  LXII. 

BEMABKS  BY  THE  PAPA. 

Now  our  melodrama  stops; 

Friends,  good-bye!  the  curtain  drops. 

The  Chaplain  did  not  find  his  occupation 
gone,  by  any  manner  of  means.  Let  the  reader 
be  good  enough  to  contemplate  the  following 
couples  all  assembled  before  him,  not  very 
long  after  the  events  just  narrated : 

L  Fred  and  Rosette. 

3.  McGintyand  Kitty. 

3.  Grassato  and  'Arriet. 

The  Countess  was  there,  also,  with  her  hus- 
baod— as  Mrs.  Gary.   She  congratulated  all  the 


brides,  and  fascinated  all  the  gentlemen  with 
her  charming  appearance. 

Cary  satisfactorily  explained  all  about 
everything.  No  cue  had  the  heart  to  harbor 
malice. 

As  for  Fred,  he  was  so  happy  that  he 
forgave  everybody  whom  ho  had  injured, 
and  insisted  on  making  friends  with  them 
all. 

The  Papa  made  a  touching  speech  at  the 
ceremony. 

"My  Christian  Friends— I  feel  to-day  that  I 
am  glad  to  be  one  among  you.  I've  lived  a 
life  of  sterrange  vicissitoods.  In  the  days  of 
my  youthful  vanity,  when  I  was  a  gay  world- 
ling, I  attended  the  theayter— yea,  I  also  read 
works  of  fiction  —  but,"  he  added,  impress- 
ively, "  the  events  of  these  last  few  days.does 
beat  hany  thing  I  ever  see  in  hall  my  horned 
days;  and  this  last  claps  the  climax.  Seuce 
I've  found  out  that  the  Countess  is  a  Hirish- 
man,  an'  Mr.  Smithers  is  another,  named 
McGinty,  and  my  'Arriet's  a-goin'  to  be  a 
Countess,!  feel  hemotioiis,too  great  for  butter- 
ance,  and  can  honly  say,  in  the  'umble  'ope 
that  hall  present  will  jine  with  me-—  Rev- 
erend Sir,  do  your  dootyl" 


> 


XB£  EWD. 


aen  with 

U   about 
to  harbor 


that  he 
injured, 
with  them 


1 


eoh  at  the 

)-day  that  I 

've  lived  a 

the  days  of 

gay  'world- 

1, 1  also  read 

led,  impress- 

BW  days,  does 

11  my  horned 

max.     Sence 

BS  is  a  Hirish- 

Dther,  named 

;oin'   to  be  a 

>at  for  butter- 

e  'umble'ope 

I  mo-        Rev- 


It  is  Selling,  and  Euerybody  is  Reading  It  I 


-*-*-*- 


STONES  THROUGH  GLASS  HOUSES ;  or,  Modern  Christianity 
A  Civilized  Heathenism.  A  Scathing  Satire  upon  the  Conventional 
Christianity  of  the  Present  Day,  and  a  Plea  for  True  Christianity.  By 
Canon  Pullen,  author  of  "The  Fight  in  Dame  Europa's  School." 
Cloth,  i2mo,  $1.25.     Paper,  75  cents. 

[From  the  Boston  Congregationalist.] 
"A  SATIRE  ON   MODERN  CHRISTIAN   LIFE. 

"The  author  of  '  The  Fight  in  Dame  Europa's  School,'  that  famous  little  pamphlet  which  created  such  amusement 
at  the  time  of  the  Franco-Prussian  War,  has  now  given  us  another  work  in  a  similar  vein,  though  upon  a  different 
theme,  which,  if  not  quite  candid,  and  somewhat  overdone,  is  nevertheless  exceedingly  readable  and  seriously  sug- 
gestive. Its  title  is  '  Modern  Christianity  a  Civilized  Heathenism,^  and  it  is  a  sharp  and  cutting  arraignment  of 
Christians  on  the  charge  of  falsity  to  the  principles  of  their  Leader.  In  his  preface  the  author  frankly  states  his 
conviction  that  revealed  religion  is  on  its  trial  before  the  world,  not  for  trifling  blemishes  and  weaknesses,  which  a 
little  correction  may  mend,  but  for  its  very  life,  and  that  what  is  needed  to  protect  it  against  the  attacks  of  scepticism 
and  infidelity  is  greater  consistency  between  the  profession  and  practice  of  its  disciples.  The  exposition  of  this  very 
excellent  idea  is  mainly  in  the  form  of  a  conversation  between  a  clergyman  of  the  Church  of  England  and  a  Hindoo, 
whose  name,  for  convenience  sake,  is  modified  into  '  Curtis.'  The  clergyman  holds  a  small  town-living  in  the  south 
of  England,  and  considers  himself  pretty  comfortably  o(t  He  has  good  health,  kind  neighbors,  and  work  that  suits 
him  ;  is  able  to  drive  his  friends  from  the  railway  station  in  his  own  trap,  and  to  give  them  a  very  fair  bottle  of 
claret  for  dinner,    '  What  can  a  tuan  wish  for  besides  ? '  asks  this  type  of  a  certain  class, 

"The  story  is  worth  taking  entire  for  its  bold  utterance  and  honest  tone.  We  can  hardly  give  the  writer  credit  for 
a  friendly  feeling  toward  the  system  he  criticises,  nor  for  a  full  and  just  appreciation  of  the  answers  that  are  ready  to 
his  attack,  but  we  ought  all  to  be  obliged  to  him  for  his  reproof,  and  to  take  pains  that  it  spur  us  into  a  new  and  truer 
devotion." 

The  volume  is  quite  as  remarkable  in  its  way  as  the  previous  book,  named  above,  by  the  same  author,  which  had 
a  remarkable  popularity  a  few  years  since.  In  its  keenness  of  satire,  and  unrelenting  denunciation  of  theological 
shams,  it  has  probably  not  been  surpassed. 

"  A  book  both  stro.ig  and  striking — a  book  which  cannot  be  read  carelessly  or  dismissed  lightly,"  —  Louis* 
Chandler  Mottlton,  in  the  New  York  Tribune^ 

"One  of  the  most  striking  and  effective  works  ever  written."— CA/Va^o  Inter-Ocean. 


WILLIAM  F.  GILL  &  CO., 


(Sucoessors  to  the  old  stand  of  SHEFABD  k  GUL,) 


IBl  "Washington  Street,  Boston. 


BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF  "THE  WOMAN  IN  WHITE,"  "ARMADALE,"  ETC.,  ETC. 


IMPORTANT  Announcement! 

(Successors  to  the  old  stand  of  Shbpard  &  Gill,) 
HAVE  JUST  PUBLISHED  AN  ENTIRELY  NEW  STORY, 

Frozen  Deep. 

By   WILKIE     COLLINS. 

12mo,  cloth,  237  pages,  $1.60.   Illustrated  by  ALFRED  FREDERICKS. 


NOW  READY  AT  ALL  THE  PRINCIPAL  BOOKSTORES. 

,     SENT  POST-PAID  ON  RECEIPT  OF  PRICE.  (See  next  page. ) 


!TC. 


p. 


3KS. 


next  page. ) 


